


Triune

by Erisden, Hexiva



Category: Legion (TV)
Genre: Bodyswapping, Canon Character of Color, Canon Disabled Character, Dark!Syd, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Eye Trauma, F/M, Future Fic, Heroes to Villains, M/M, Multi, Mythology References, OT3, Past Rape/Non-con, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Villains, ruling the world, villains in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erisden/pseuds/Erisden, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/pseuds/Hexiva
Summary: In an alternate universe branching off from S2, Farouk and Syd have joined forces, suborned Division Three, and conquered the world. David and his alters are leading the last resistance against their regime. But when an attack on Division Three's HQ goes horribly wrong, David finds himself their prisoner. Offered a cruel bargain by Farouk, he must convince Syd to leave with him - or stay here, forever.





	1. Chapter 1

Divad makes his way through the makeshift rebel camp, the sound of gunshots firing around him at all sides. At one time, the sound would have made him tense, but, after years of preparation and several battles against their enemies and their armies, now he only strides past with the thoughts in his mind and not much else. At his left, one fighter is crouched down, rifle locked and loaded, all his concentration focused on the target ahead of him. He shoots, but even so near, Divad can hardly hear it over the other noise. Up ahead, another fighter’s just finished her training for the day. Sweat drips down her brow, and as she drains her gun of the rest of its bullets, she reaches up to wipe it away. When she spots Divad, she offers him a short nod and a solemn look. He returns the gesture and looks away.

He passes another man, helmeted and gunned, taking a break on the nearby bench. The man spots him, and he’s quick to offer him a smile and move towards him. “How’s it going? Got your rifle locked and loaded for the big fight?” He claps him on the shoulder and he makes his way past the practice range without waiting for an answer.

A little farther up, a woman practices with a punching bag. She notices him, so he says: “Keep an eye on your left flank. You’re doing great, you just gotta keep your guard up!”

“Looking great,,” to the man repairing an abandoned jeep. Affixing a machine gun to the front. “They’ll think twice before charging that thing!”

To those who are too busy to greet him, he doesn’t say a word. He has his sights fixed on the main HQ: a large tent pitched in the middle of the training field, where the leaders of the rebellion, the last defenders of humanity, make their plans to save the world. In times of war, it’s become increasingly more important that they stay focused on their main objective: saving the world. And, for David, saving love. Saving Syd from the worst enemy of all.

Divad ducks through the tent flap. Inside are eleven of their biggest strategists and most skilled fighters, people who Divad trusts to lead the rest of their soldiers into the fight. They’re sitting around a large table, chatting amongst themselves about their plans. When Divad makes his way to the head of the table, they stop talking and look to him, watching. Waiting.

He straddles the folding chair at the head of the table. “All right, guys. This is the big one. This is do or die. This is the day we kill Amahl Farouk, once and for all.”

“Are you sure about this, David?” asks a grizzled, red-haired woman. “We’re betting a lot on this one offensive. It’s not too late to back out.”

Somewhere in Divad’s head, David responds to hearing his name. He’s still in there - still in charge, most of the time. Divad’s just here to help out. To keep him from fucking it all up.

“There’s no way we’re backing out of this one. We’ve got everything we need, right here.” He nods out to the entrance flap, signalling the rest of the camp. “I’ve taken a lot of precaution to make sure Farouk doesn’t know what hit him.”

“You did that the last time,” one of the leaders pipes up, and Divad turns his attention to him. Dex is his name, and he had been with him for the last offensive, which hadn’t gone according to plan.

“Yeah? So what? That was the last time. This is this one.” Divad taps his fingers on the table as he counts. “We’ve got the front lines, we’ve got the middle, we’ve got the flank. We’ve got people coming in after we charge to distract them.”

Another woman shifts where she’s sitting. “What if he’s not distracted? He can read our minds.”

“Come on. I’ll be shielding everyone’s thoughts from him. I thought you knew that.” Divad laughs, but he doesn’t think it’s funny. “We’ve got a team of the best fighters there is, about to hit them with everything we’ve got right where it hurts, and they don’t know about it. We’ll be fine.”

“Come on, guys,” says a scarred blonde, crossing their arms over their chest. “We can’t afford to psych ourselves out right now. David’s got us covered. He knows what he’s doing.”

Divad smiles. “Alex knows what they’re talking about. I’m here to help. After all - that’s what I do.”

* * *

David teleports them in. Or maybe it’s Divad who does it - they’re sharing, their hands together on the steering wheel. One by one, the rebels pop out of thin air into the bushes surrounding Division Three’s headquarters. 

Division Three has been transformed into the right hand of Farouk’s regime. David can’t help but think back to that time, so many years ago, when Division Three turned on him, when he realized that Farouk was controlling all of them, even Syd. 

He tries not to remember the way Syd looked at him, that day he stood in the trial room.

It’s not the last time he’s seen Syd; he’s glimpsed her since then, from a distance, standing next to Farouk. A glimpse from a distance in battle after battle - David tries not to think of the first, terrible, fight, where he and his rebels had fought for their lives, and Syd had been grievously injured. _It wasn’t my fault,_ David tells himself. _It’s not my fault she lost her arm._

Syd is Farouk’s Queen, now, powerful and frightening and utterly dedicated to him. But he thinks of that moment in the bubble, on trial, as the last time he saw Syd as herself - before Farouk took complete control and knocked her love for him away, forever.

_Stop thinking about her, man,_ Dvd says in his head. _We’re better off without her. She’s a snake just like him._

David pushes that away. Syd’s not like Farouk. She’s another victim, just like Lenny, just like David himself. David doesn’t know how he’s going to save her yet - but he has to hold out hope that he can. That somehow, some day, they’ll be together again, the way they used to be. She told it to him herself: love is what they have to save if they want to save the world. He still believes that.

Even if she’s forgotten.

David takes the lead. The team trusts him to guide them where they need to go, and they trust his powers to keep them safe from most of the guards. He takes out the two at the entrance with a snap of his fingers, then gestures for those in the bushes to follow him first.

_The rest of you,_ he sends into the rest of their minds, _stay out here until the rest are inside. You know where to go._

He ducks inside on foot instead of teleporting, so that everyone knows where he is. The building is easy to get into, and the halls aren’t on lockdown yet. The rebels follow him in, spreading out the way they were instructed. Some follow behind David, while others split down the hallways. They’ve had the floor map of Division Three drilled into their heads. They know where to go.

Even if the layout is the same, the halls look different. The lights are brighter, harsher on the eyes, and the walls are smoother. The windows are clean and spotless, and every wall and ceiling and floor is white.

The first few hallways are easy. He’s able to feel for the guards before they see him, and send them right off to sleep before they can scream or trigger an alarm. But even with his powers keeping him grounded, the halls are disorienting, like a maze, and David finds himself doubting several times whether or not he’s already been down this hallway, or turned a corner.

It’s when he drops his focus for a moment to rest his mind, and a group of armed guards turns the corner, that things start to go wrong.

“Intruders!” one shouts. They raise their guns. Behind him, David can hear his rebels drawing their rifles up. In an instant, he disappears, reappearing beside one of the guards and slamming his head into the wall behind him. He yanks another guard’s gun out of his hand. Someone from his own group yells for him to get out of the way, and he teleports behind their enemies, just milliseconds before a bullet cuts through the air where he just was.

“It’s _David,”_ comes the nearest guard’s gasp, as they whirl around to face him.

Divad’s pride and amusement bubble through. “Oh, you _know_ me?” David grins. “Do they talk about me a lot?”

He feels a sudden disturbance in his mind and disappears the same moment someone shoots at him, reappearing feet away. Fun’s over. He throws his arm out, and their enemies go flying over the rebel’s heads.

One of the rebels has fallen, he notices, but it doesn’t matter. “This way.” He gestures for them to follow again, taking off into the halls. He doesn’t have to look behind him to know they’re following.

Something prickles across his nerves as he leads the charge deeper into the facility. Something familiar, something close by. Thoughts filled with despair. “Do you hear that?” he asks one of his companions. “A sound, or a, a, thought - like someone crying.”

He sets off down the hallway, intent on following the prickle to its source.

“David, what are you doing?” Dex asks, taking the detour and following after him. “This isn’t the plan. We have to guard the outskirts, or they’ll come in and cut us off.”

“Don’t you hear that?” David asks urgently. It’s audible now, the sound of tears.

“Help!” says a voice from deeper down the hallway. “David? David, is that you?”

“Syd?” David’s pulse quickens. He speeds up. The voice is coming from the door at the end of the hallway, a big, locked metal door that he doesn’t recognize. He lifts a hand, and telekinetic force _rips_ the door open.

Beyond is a big, echoing, empty room - shrouded in darkness, with a single table in the center, lit by a bright, bare bulb. And sitting at the table is -

Syd.

She’s chained to the table by her wrist, her hair a mess, her clothes torn, her eyes wide with terror. “David!” she says. “David, please, help -”

“Don’t -” Dex cuts in.

David isn’t listening. He rushes forward into the room, eyes darting around as he tries to find the source of the chains, so that he can break them away. “What happened?” he asks, feeling along the chains. He can’t risk touching her and switching - she hates that, he remembers, and he won’t do that to her.

“Farouk,” she answers, tugging weakly against her fetters. “When you got here - he thought it would be better to leave me here. He thinks I’m useless, David, he - you have to help.”

David straightens up, feeling around the room with his mind for the key. He can’t find it. Farouk must have taken it with him. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“David!” Dex calls from the hallway. “We don’t have time! We’ve gotta go!”

“I’ll make time!” He knows full well he can’t make time - but for Syd, he has to. He makes his way back to Syd and squats down, reaching out to take the chain in his hand. He shuts his eyes, calling on his powers to break the metal. He’ll have to do this the hard way. 

For the most part, it works. He feels one of the shackles snap under his touch and opens his eyes. He’s about to break the other when he suddenly feels something hit his mind. It feels like a psychic truck just hit his brain at eighty miles an hour, throwing him off his haunches and onto his back, curling around his thoughts and forcibly locking his powers so that he can’t use them. He’s felt it only once before, but he knows, through his aching mind, that it’s the Choke that did this.

_Shit._

He scrambles up, looking toward Syd. Except it’s not Syd who stands there anymore, but Farouk, the chains still locked around his wrists.

Farouk is smiling his demonic smile. “Quite good, isn’t it?” he asks. “Your beloved’s power. Better than any mere illusion. The flesh becomes its own mask.” 

There’s gunfire outside, and David knows he’s fallen into a trap, that his followers are being massacred while he stands here, powerless and human. On instinct, he tries to teleport, but nothing happens, and he’s left stepping back, away from Farouk. “How did you know where I was?”

“The walls have ears, _joonam,”_ Farouk says, chuckling. “Harder to block out electronic bugs than psychic ones.”

“You know they’ll come and find me,” David warns, even as the sound of gunshots echo ceaselessly through the halls behind him. “And then they’ll help me kill you, once and for all.”

“Difficult,” Farouk says, meeting his eyes, “if they’re all dead. Only we gods have the right to rebel against death itself.”

There it is again. That reminder that they’re gods. That the both of them are _similar._ “Shut up.” He moves away from the door, slowly. Since the illusion’s worn off, that means the Choke is working on Farouk, too. Which means they’re both equally as powerless. David _could_ take him. “You’re not a god. You’re just some mutant with a god-complex who think he’s powerful enough to rule the world.”

Farouk smiles, and steps, leisurely, towards him. “But I am. Look around you. What do you think I am doing - if not ruling the world?”

David doesn’t, in fact, look around. He doesn’t care enough. “You can’t do this forever.”

“I am very, very old,” Farouk says. “And I am never going to die.”

His voice is so certain, so smugly confident, that David feels a hot flash of fury race through him. They’re both powerless. He _can_ take him. “Think again,” he mutters between his teeth as he lunges forward and aims his knuckles at Farouk’s cheek.

Farouk reaches up to grab David’s hand, but he’s too slow, knocked reeling by the blow and left clinging to David’s fist with one hand. “Guards!” he snaps, and black-clad soldiers start flooding into the room behind David. 

David yanks his fist from Farouk’s grip. He’s about to aim another punch at Farouk’s eye when one of the guards grabs his arm, tugging it back. Pain shoots through his shoulder, but he pulls anyways. Another guard seizes his other arm, dragging it back behind him and pressing it against his back. It hurts, but no matter how much David twists and writhes, he can’t free himself. “Let me go,” he hisses.

Farouk smiles. _“Nein, nein, mein Freund._ I think you know it won’t be that simple.” One of the guards kicks David’s legs out from under him and forces him to the ground. Farouk steps closer, looking down at him. “How does it feel?”

David keeps his gaze down at the ground, scowling against the pain in his shoulders. He wants so badly to put up a fight, but he can hardly move here. Instead of answering, he gathers his saliva and spits at Farouk’s feet.

Farouk laughs, and kneels down next to him. His eyes are bright with excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this day, my dear,” he breathes. He reaches out one hand, clad in a black leather glove, and cups David’s jaw.

David tenses, looking away, toward the wall behind Farouk. He realizes, in this moment, that he’s going to die here, subdued by a few measly guards, powerless against his worst enemy. “I don’t care how long you’ve waited. Let me _go.”_

Farouk smiles at him, fond and patronizing. “An interesting thought. Perhaps I shall.” He leans in, close enough that David can feel his breath on his face. “I have a proposition for you.”

“If it’s ‘let me back into your mind and you won’t die,’ the answer is no. I’d rather you just kill me than for that to _ever_ happen again.” David can’t stand Farouk, doesn’t want to hear another word.

Farouk chuckles. “Something more modest than that.” He caresses David’s face. “You came here to save her - your beloved.” His eyes slip down to David’s lips. “You still can.”

The words give David pause. He _had_ come here to save Syd, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s listening… he’s listening. “What does that mean?”

“A wager,” Farouk breathes. His hand comes up to run through David’s hair. “You come to live with the two of us for - a month, shall we say. That seems fair, no? And at the end of that time, if you can convince her to join you - of her own free will - I will let her leave with you. But if you fail - you stay with us. Forever.”

David grimaces. The prospect of staying with them forever makes his stomach turn, but not enough, apparently, to throw him completely off the bet. There’s no doubt in his mind that he could convince Syd to join him in that time. A month seems _generous_ compared to what he could do. It only took Syd a day to turn on him - he can manage it. “You don’t think I’d be able to convince her in a month?” He scoffs.

Farouk smiles. “Perhaps. But imagine what I’ll be able to do to you in that time.” His hand won’t stop stroking David’s hair, like he can’t make himself take his hands away. “Well? What will you choose? Life - or death?”

Frowning, David leans his head away, turning to get away from Farouk’s touch. “You won’t be able to do anything to me. I won’t be corrupted again. I know better. You’re the scum of the earth.” And he needs to get Syd away from that, no matter what. Even if it means staying with them for a month.

_Less than a month,_ Dvd mutters in the back of his mind.

“Fine.” David looks back at the floor. “Life. I choose… life.”

Delight spreads across Farouk’s features, and he gets to his feet. “Excellent.” He reaches into his pockets and pulls out a small, flat box, handing it to David. “Put this on, and I’ll let you go.”

“I can’t move,” David mutters bitterly, in the same moment one of the guards edges past him and takes the box. They open it, revealing a modest collar, made of red leather, with a dark red stone across from what David assumes to be the lock to keep it on. There’s a design lacing the leather that he can’t make sense of until the guard plucks it out of the box: tiny little dots that play around the edge and gather on either side of the stone. The stone itself has a small, red design etched into it, with the same tiny dots inside. He thinks, for a moment, that it’s a brain. And then he realizes - it’s a pomegranate.

Confused, he glances up at Farouk. “What is this?”

“A power suppressor,” Farouk says, smoothly. “Much more comfortable than the crown - don’t you think?”

David’s expression flattens. “You want me to wear a dog collar.”

“Would you prefer spikes in your brain?” Farouk says, sharply. “Or medication, perhaps?”

“Shut up.” David sighed. “Fine. Just put it on me. But don’t make it too tight.”

Farouk’s hand tugs down David’s turtleneck, his gloved fingers brushing against David’s skin and making the goosebumps rise on his skin. David realizes that he hasn’t been touched like this in years. Farouk doesn’t see him as the incorruptible hero of the resistance. David meets his warm, brown eyes, and knows that Farouk sees right through him. A shudder runs down his spine. 

Then, in a blink, Farouk wraps the collar around David’s neck, and secures it with a latch. “There.” He steps back, admiring his handiwork.

David’s still grimacing. He turns his head and lowers his neck, testing the way it feels. It’s not too tight, at least, but he can’t shake the feeling he’s some sort of dog now. That he’s just been _sold_ to a new owner. “I hate it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Farouk says, lightly. He turns his head to his guards. “Let him up. Carefully.”

The guards exchange a look, and slowly loosen their grip on David. He stands, glancing around at the guards. For a brief moment, he wants to lash out at them, make them pay for forcing him down. Then the moment passes, and he’s left standing, motionless and tense and powerless, a collar around his throat.

Farouk’s hands stray to David again, brushing him down. “Come with me,” he says. “I’ll show you to your new quarters.”

David is escorted out of the building and into a limo. The windows are tinted solid black, and the front is cut off by a barrier they keep shut, so he can’t see where they’re going. He curls up in the back, trying most of the time to break the collar off his neck and the rest of it moping about the loss of his team. He already knows he won’t see any of them again. They’re probably all dead now - all because he’d let himself get distracted by Syd. By Farouk.

_I told you,_ Dvd hisses, and David only sucks his head and presses the heel of his palm into his temple. _You never needed her. And now we’re stuck here, powerless._

_I know._ David falls onto his side, shutting his eyes.

He’s not sure how much longer they drive before the limo finally stops. Someone opens the door, and the sun blinds him as they yank him out. 

“Welcome,” Farouk says, “to paradise.”

‘Mansion’ might be a better word for what David sees - but the word that springs to mind is ‘palace.’ It’s a towering building of white stone and Roman architecture, tasteful and yet imposing. David’s seen it before, on the TV, in Farouk’s propaganda broadcasts - but it seems even larger up close. Even more imposing. Even more real.

Farouk leads him in through the front door, like a guest rather than a prisoner. The entry hall is set with Persian tile patterns, and David sees that same pomegranate design, woven into the tiles and creeping along the bottom corners of the walls.

The room Farouk takes him to is - less imposing. Still lavish, still elegant, but smaller. Cozier. David scans the room, and his eyes catch on a familiar lamp, next to the bedside. _His_ lamp.

“This is where you’ll be staying for the next month,” Farouk says. He looks David up and down and wrinkles his nose, throwing open an adjacent door to reveal a white-and-gold tiled bathroom. “I’ve had someone draw you a bath.”

David feels out of place here. Like he’s been pulled out of his own world and straight into somewhere new and extraordinary and _rich._ But he makes his way to the lamp, peering around it, ducking to look at the chain for the light. Sure enough, the surface is worn, just like his. “Where did you get this?”

“Your sister kept it,” Farouk says, softly. “I found it. It is ours, not hers.”

“This is _mine,”_ David insists, glancing around the room for anything else that might be his. Nothing. He steps closer to the lamp. “This isn’t yours.”

“You,” Farouk says, “are mine.” He stops, tilts his head, and corrects: “Ours. You belong to _us.”_

David is suddenly all too aware of the collar around his neck. He reaches up, curling his fingers around the leather. “I don’t belong to either of you. Or _anyone.”_

“Then prove it,” Farouk challenges, meeting David’s eyes. “Prove it, and take her from me.”

“I’m _going_ to.” David turns away, looking back at his lamp. He reaches down to turn it on, watching as the light bleeds through the holes and light stars across the walls and the floor. “And then you’ll have no one. Or - _or,_ maybe we’ll kill you first.”

“And what if you fail?” Farouk asks. “Will you keep your promise? Or try to flee?”

“Either way,” David says, gesturing to his collar, “I can’t run when I’m wearing this.”

“You’ll learn to like it here,” Farouk says. “You see, that is my half of the wager - you try to win her to your side - and I try to win you.”

David moves from the bedside, looking into the bathroom. “You can give that up right now. You won’t be able to win me.”

Farouk laughs. “I’ve waited this long, my dear. I won’t give up on you that quickly. You understand, don’t you? After all - it’s how you feel about her.”

Narrowing his eyes, David turns back to look at him. “Whatever I feel about her is none of your business.” He doesn’t like when Farouk does that, compares David to himself. Syd is the love of David’s life. David doesn’t think Farouk’s ever felt anything that real in his life. 

“Isn’t it?” Farouk challenges. “I have been here for her, all these years. Me, Amahl Farouk. Not you.”

David blinks. His eyes prick, and something like frustration and anger runs through his chest. He doesn’t _want_ to think about the fact that the two of them having been together all this time. He knows - he doesn’t need it brought up. “I’m going to take a bath,” he mutters softly, running his fingers over his cheek - where Farouk touched him - and turning away, heading for the door.

“Good,” Farouk says, faintly amused. “You need it.”

David pauses, glaring down at the bright tiles in the bathroom. “Just _get out.”_

Farouk’s laugh lingers behind him as the man himself walks out of the room.

David sighs and makes his way into the bathroom, shutting the door carefully behind him and making sure it’s locked. He doesn’t know exactly why, considering Farouk has the power to be literally anywhere in the world. But it makes him feel safer. At least for the moment.

He trudges to the tub and dips his fingers in. The water is warm. He strips his jacket off, and then his shirt, and then his belt and his jeans. But not his collar. The collar won’t come off no matter how hard he tries. He slips into the water and lets himself soak. Here, he can take a few minutes to let himself relax, warm up in the water, bask in the comfort of a good tub, which, for once in his life, he has. In comparison with the quick showers he’s had ever since Summerland and Division Three and life on the run, this feels like a luxury. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone bursting in and pointing a gun at him and blasting him in the head with ten bullets. 

Right now, he’s going to think about how he doesn’t have to worry about any of his followers knocking on the door and telling him that there’s something on the radar, that they need to get up and go, that they need to go out and fight, again, only minutes after David’s cleaned the blood from the last fight off of himself. Sometimes, he’d wanted to tell them to fuck off. Let them deal with it: he could go in and clean the rest up. Now, they’re gone, and he can focus on what’s really important: getting Syd to see his side of things.

But no matter how much he tells himself he’ll win Syd over - no matter how much he tells himself he won’t let Farouk get to him - he still feels uncertain. It’s been _years_ since Farouk turned Syd to his side. One month is hardly a fraction of that time. Maybe it won’t be enough time.

“No.” He sits up in the bath, rubbing himself with bubbles. “A month is plenty of time. It’s fine. It’s plenty.”

_Are you sure?_ Divad’s voice.

“It’s fine.” Stretching his legs, David scoots to the front of the tub, unplugging it and letting the water drain. He rinses himself off, then steps out, grabbing the towel on the rack next to the tub and drying himself off. In his haste to get away from Farouk, he had completely forgotten to make sure there were clothes in the bathroom and, sure enough, there aren’t any around.

He wraps the towel around his waist and makes his way to the door, opening it a crack and peering into the room. No sign of Farouk. But there _are_ clothes on the bed, neatly folded, and he’s quick to dart out to put them on. Everything but the shirt fits, so he leaves that off and makes his way back into the bathroom to shave.

He hasn’t shaved with a regular razor in years, and it’s been even longer since he’s shaved without powers. As he runs it carefully along his cheek, he takes a moment to look himself over. There are dark half-circles under his eyes, and there’s a cut at his hairline from something he doesn’t remember. It’s him, in the mirror, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like how different he looks from the rest of his surroundings: like he’s a piece of garbage that had gotten tossed in the ‘keep’ pile instead of stuffed in the trash bag where he belonged.

“I made this for you, you know,” comes Farouk’s voice. “This room. This place. Somewhere in the palace just for you.”

David jumps and looks up to see his enemy leaning in the bathroom doorframe. He knows Farouk’s responding to his thoughts, and he tries, without thinking, to guard his mind. It’s strange, not being able to do anything when he’s been so safe in his mind for all these years. Strange, and terrifying. He continues to shave, ignoring his threatening nerves. “I’m busy.”

“I know. I could hear you from my room, worrying.” Farouk crosses his arms. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve missed that. Hearing your thoughts. For decades, that was the background noise of my life. Like a song playing in the backdrop.”

“I don’t want you to hear my thoughts, so you can stop it now.” David grips his razor tighter, staring at his jaw in the mirror. “I don’t _care_ what you have to say to me, I don’t _care_ what you say to reassure me. It’s not helping.”

Farouk hesitates. It’s not a long pause - but it grates on David’s nerves, like a missed beat in a song. “She will be here soon,” Farouk says, and David gets the sense that he’s still trying to comfort him. Paradoxically - as if Farouk weren’t the reason he’s on edge. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Just - shut up. Everything you say is everything I _don’t_ want to hear.” It’s getting on his nerves. It’s wearing on him. He can hardly keep the razor steady, and eventually, his fingers tremble so much that he accidentally lets it slip. Pain crackles across his skin, and he drops the razor, clutching at his jaw and hissing. 

Farouk is much closer all of a sudden. His hand is on David’s shoulder, and he’s pressing a clean white towel to the cut. “Careful, _joonam._ Let me.” He scoops up the razor.

Jaw clenched, David reaches up, gripping Farouk’s wrist with one hand and the towel against his jaw with the other. “I can do it.” 

“You want to look your best for her, do you not?” Farouk asks. David can feel the heat from his body, dangerously close, as though it’s threatening to overtake him entirely. David is suddenly, frighteningly aware of the fact that he’s shirtless and exposed.

“Why do you care?” David asks, rhetorically. But, apparently, Farouk _does,_ and that thought makes him let go and lower his hands. He clasps them together, looking into the mirror at Farouk. “I’ll just tell her you did this to me.”

Farouk smiles. “Lying to her already? Tut, tut. A poor beginning to a reunion.” He applies more shaving cream to his hands, and smoothes them up David’s neck, his touch gentle.

“I wouldn’t be lying.” David tilts his chin up, his eyes up at the ceiling. He’s still tense. Any moment, Farouk is going to wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him. He can just see it. “You’re the one that decided to come in here. I wouldn’t have cut myself if you weren’t here.”

Farouk says nothing. Instead, David feels a shadowy presence in his mind - an open door, Farouk letting David glimpse at his thoughts. They pull him deeper - not taking control, but rather _offering_ it. It’s a sudden, if not gentle, return to David’s own powers, even if they aren’t completely his. They feel similar. It’s almost refreshing. “Direct me,” Farouk says, softly.

David grips the edge of the sink. His own fingers are still trembling, but Farouk’s aren’t. He guides his enemy’s hand, and the razor, to his neck. He keeps still, watching in the mirror as the razor moves. 

The hand isn’t completely under David’s control - but Farouk isn’t fighting back, following David’s psychic orders, his hands always where David wants them. The razor glides up and down his neck, slow, steady, sure. Farouk’s hands are soft where they brush against David’s skin, and David can feel the warmth of his body behind him. He doesn’t dare talk, doesn’t dare swallow, for fear that he’ll accidentally slit his neck this time - or, perhaps, for fear that he will shatter the strange calm of this moment.

But Farouk never slits his throat, nor does he suddenly pull his powers away from David’s control, nor does he attempt to take over David’s mind. Neither of them speak, the only sound in the room being their breathing and the gentle scrape of the razor on David’s skin. It’s… almost nice.

And then comes the last brush, and they finish. David moves Farouk’s hand away, reaching up to make sure they haven’t missed a spot. Without a word, he rinses off, avoiding his cut and grabbing a towel to dry his face and press it back over his jaw. 

Farouk runs his own hands under the water, and wipes his hands dry. He’s grinning at David, as if he thinks he’s just scored a point. “What’s the phrase, _a l’Englais?”_ Farouk asks. “You - ah, yes. You clean up nicely.”

That’s a compliment. That’s a _nice_ compliment, and David can’t get past the fact that Farouk would offer it. Unsettled, David throws him a dark frown before he’s turning away and heading for the bedroom, ignoring the confusing prickle inside his breast. “The shirt you gave me was too small,” he says quickly.

“Ahh, you should have given me your measurements before being captured, if you wanted your clothes tailored,” Farouk says, smirking at his own joke. He follows David back into the bedroom, leaning against the door opposite the bathroom.

David sits on the side nearest his lamp. It’s still on, still tossing stars around the room, and for a moment, he’s reminded of his old room - if only in the familiar way the lamp head squeaks as it turns. This room isn’t his, though. It never will be. “Are you just going to randomly come into my room like you have been, or what?”

“My bedroom is through here,” Farouk says, jerking his head back at the door he’s leaning on. _“Our_ bedroom. This way, we will be able to keep an eye on you. You may go where you like, as long as you’re accompanied by one of us.”

David’s expression sours at the mention of Syd and Farouk together. “Oh, you mean like how they do in high school? Where kids can’t roam the halls unsupervised? Do I need a hall pass to use the bathroom, too?”

Farouk chuckles. “You are a prisoner here. Do you remember what you and your friends did, when I was _your_ prisoner? I am being quite merciful.”

“There’s not a single merciful bone in your body.” David scoots himself onto the bed and crosses his legs. “Choosing to stay here so that I don’t die is _not_ a mercy.”

“Would you flee if you could?” Farouk crosses his arms. “Go back to your rebellion - sacrifice the chance to win your beloved’s heart back?”

He means for the question to make David hesitate, but he’s ready for it. “If it meant another chance to kill you, sure.” 

Farouk laughs, softly. “So in the end, you would choose hate over love. You would choose me over her.”

David presses his lips together, concealing a grimace. That’s not the way he thinks of it - that’s not the way he _wants_ to think of it. Hate isn’t David’s way: it’s love. He’d been doing it out of love: choosing to let go of it so that it would be strengthened. He has to believe that. “Don’t twist this into something it’s not. I wouldn’t be choosing you over her. I’d be choosing her over _you,_ because as soon as you were gone, I’d convince her to come back to me. And you’d be _dead.”_

“And what if it wasn’t so simple?” Farouk asks, smiling slightly. “What if you killed me - and by doing it, broke her heart?”

“That wouldn’t -” Even the thought of it makes David’s skin crawl. “Her heart doesn’t belong to you.” It’s not possible, for her to go from loving him to loving the man who tortured him for thirty years. 

“I have been in her head,” Farouk says, quietly. “Just as I have been in yours. I know what she feels.”

“You’re lying. You _did it to her._ You’re lying!” His eyes prickle with tears again, and his expression twists to hide it. He gropes around himself until he finds a pillow and throws it at Farouk. “Shut up!”

_“Es ist die Wahrheit!”_ Farouk snaps. He takes a step closer to David. “She loves me, your beloved - just as she does you. And I have brought you to her. _For her.”_

“Shut _up!_ She doesn’t love you!” Desperate, David glances around for something else to throw - something harder, something capable of actually doing damage. He moves to the edge of the bed, grabbing the creaking lamp from its place on the bedside table and yanking it from its place. The chord snaps, and David tumbles back, using the momentum to throw it at Farouk’s head.

It doesn’t quite hit, smashing into the dresser beside Farouk and shattering into a thousand pieces that fly through the room and scatter to the ground. Some land on the bed, and one even reaches David’s foot.

Smarting, and suddenly overcome with regret, David pulls his foot away and scoots back, tears in his eyes, silent.

“Look at you,” Farouk sneers, looking down at him. “You’re like a child, still. You’ll throw away everything I am offering you because you cannot understand who she is.”

David’s eyes burn, but he can’t let Farouk get the last word in. “I _do_ understand who she is! I understand that she could never love anyone like you, just like nobody in their right mind could ever love you!” 

Farouk stares at him, his jaw set, his eyes cold. He’s silent, for far too long, and somehow that doesn’t make David feel better. And then he turns away from David, looking at the shards of the shattered lamp on the floor. He lifts two fingers, like someone winding string, and the shards rise up from the ground and piece themselves back together into the lamp, good as new. With a flick of his fingers, Farouk floats the lamp to sit at the foot of David’s bed. “I will be back in the morning,” he says, turning his back on David and reaching for the doorknob. “And then we will see who is right, you and I. We will see.”

David doesn’t say anything, and Farouk watches him for another long, unsettling moment, before turning away and heading for the door. When it shuts, David looks back at the lamp on his bed. No cracks, no crevices, no hint that it had ever been broken in the first place. He reaches out to touch it and sighs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David meets Syd, and Syd meets the alters.

David doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the evening. He spends it pacing, wasting his time, wandering into the bathroom to look around, coming back out again to explore his room, sliding into bed. Rinse and repeat. He doesn’t sleep well. The room is unfamiliar. He tries lying on his side and staring at the wall, counting the stars as they pass by, trying to make himself sleepy. He tries lying on his back, his eyes shut, listening to the gentle creak of the lamp as it spins. Despite it all, he knows he’s in a place he doesn’t want to be, with the man he hates the most in the room right next to his, probably sleeping with Syd in his arms. 

Or worse. 

He groans, slamming a pillow over his head. It’s an hour of that, and then another hour of tossing, and then an hour in the bathroom, trying to saw the collar off his neck with the razor. The leather seems to be impervious to anything sharp, and any tugging, and all he gains is a sore neck and another cut on his finger.

Back in bed, David tries to count the ways his day could go. He could try sneaking out, but he’s sure Farouk would know the moment he decided to do it. He could steal a butcher’s knife and try cutting the collar off again. That seems dangerous. He _could_ talk to Syd. He wants to. He doesn’t want to. He’s nervous. Either way, he’s going to have to.

There’s a knock on the door, from the adjoining room. It startles him. For a moment, he thinks it must be Syd, coming to talk to him early.

But he knows better. Propping his elbows on his knees, he leans forward and presses his fingers into his eyelids. “What?”

Farouk opens the door. He smirks at David, as if he’s letting him in on a joke. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“No.” His eyes hurt like he’s been crying for hours, even though he hasn’t. He might as well have been. “Why are you here?”

“I thought you might want breakfast.” Farouk pauses. “With  _ us.”  _

As if on cue, and very much like a traitor, David’s stomach rumbles. He hadn’t realized he was even hungry. He thought those were just nerves. Probably a combination of both. “What do you usually eat? Bacon with a side of scrambled human brains?”

Farouk chuckles. “I’ve considered it. But for you - I’ve had a few of your old favorites made.”

Waffles comes straight to mind. He tilts his head, frowning in question. 

Farouk smiles. “Of course. And cherry pie.”

He hasn’t had cherry pie in years. Not since the stores had suddenly stopped selling frozen cherry pies, and the restaurants had removed them from their menus. And he’d never tried making them for himself. The offer is intriguing, but still… “Did you poison them? Is that what this is?”

Farouk laughs. He takes a step closer to David. “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear. Look around you. Do you really think I couldn’t kill you, right now, if I wanted that?”

“Did you lace them with something?” David presses, although the question is more rhetorical than one he wants an answer to. “Clearly, you’re someone who wants to watch someone suffer before they die.”

“No,” Farouk says. “If I wanted to torture you, I would. There is nothing to stop me.” He shakes his head. “You have no choice but to trust me.”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s not going to happen. Ever.” David scoots back, to the edge of the bed farthest from Farouk, and stands. “But I’ll have breakfast anyways.”

Farouk steps back, and holds the door open for him. “Down the hallway and to the right, my dear.”

David trudges to the door, edging past Farouk without touching him and walking several steps backwards before finally turning around and heading down the hall. Now that he’s been stuck in one room all this time, the mansion seems to feel all the larger and more spacious, with plenty of room for him to breathe. It’s certainly grand and glittering and impressive. He hates it, and he’ll never be used to it… but it could be worse.

He turns right, where Farouk says he’s to turn, and sees her.

She’s  _ there. _ That’s his first thought:  _ She’s there.  _ Clad in a black coat, her hair cropped short, an elegantly carved metal prosthetic where her arm used to be. She’s standing at the head of the table, one black-gloved hand on the back of her chair, her eyes wide and fixed on him.

David’s heart speeds up, and warmth spreads through his chest. She looks…  _ good.  _ She wears the lines of the intervening years with dignity, an aura of power and authority to match Farouk’s surrounding her. 

“I have brought him to you,” Farouk says, reverently.

“David,” Syd breathes.

Sometime during his admiration of her, he had stopped walking. He takes a step forward, but doesn’t come any closer. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do, isn’t sure if he’s supposed to pick a seat or if one of them will tell him where to sit. The table is long, the decorations fancy, and it doesn’t feel like the kind of place where he can just sit down where he wants.

Not that he cares. He’s still watching Syd, unable to take his eyes off of her. “… Hey.”

“You look…” Syd trails off. “It’s - it’s been a long time.”

Farouk makes a show of pulling up the sleeve of his suit jacket to check his watch. “Ah, look at the time. I have an appointment with the minister of Region Five. The man is under the impression he’s getting one over on me. Enjoy breakfast without me, my dears.” In one swift movement, he steps over to Syd, catches her gloved hand in his, and kisses it - and then he’s gone.

David’s stares at where Farouk just was, perplexed for a moment. Too quick for him to react - it’s only seconds later that he realizes Farouk has been  _ planning _ to leave him alone here with Syd - this Syd he doesn’t recognize anymore. It hasn’t been long, but he’s already wondering whether or not he’ll be able to hold all this against her.

No, of course he will. 

Clearing his throat, he finally moves, making his way to the table. He frowns, glancing around. “Where do I…?”

Syd looks down at the table. It’s set with two places - Farouk’s artifice immediately obvious. Slowly, she sits down. “Come on,” she says, glancing at the empty chair. “Let’s eat.”

David approaches his seat, deliberately pulling it out and sitting himself down. He feels the sudden urge to straighten up and look at least semi-decent, even if he doesn’t fit in here. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, afraid that, if he looks directly at her, he’ll be breaking some sort of unspoken law. She’s so different. Older, and much more…  _ commanding. _ Solid. “I haven’t eaten since… yesterday.”

Syd wastes no time in serving herself a plate of waffles and a few slices of bacon. “He should have given you something to eat. We’re not -” She pokes at her waffles. “I want you to be comfortable here, David. If - if you can.”

He dishes up his own plate, always watching her from the side of his eye. “I don’t think I can,” he says truthfully. “I don’t want be here, for one. And for another, I haven’t… this place, it’s so…” He buys himself some time to grapple with the words by grabbing the syrup and drizzling it over his waffles. “It’s so  _ rich.” _

“It is,” Syd agrees. “He likes to show off. Like a peacock.” She isn’t meeting his eyes either, and he feels brave enough, when he notices that, to finally look straight at her. Everything about her looks commanding: every line in her face, every tiny movement. She looks like she’s thinking - even that feels powerful.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he looks back down at his plate, cutting into the corner of a waffle with the edge of his fork.

“I missed you,” she blurts out, after a moment of silence.

He lifts his head, startled, and looks back at her. “Oh.” That’s not the right thing to say. She  _ missed _ him, even here. Even after all these years. The silence ticks by. Then, without another thought: “… I missed you too.”

Syd pokes at her food. “I thought, you know, I kept thinking. What if he dies? What if he gets shot and I never get to - finish this. You left me and I left you, and then we were - dangling. Like a loose thread, but you keep pulling at it, tugging, until the whole thing comes unravelled.”

He spears the bit of waffle he’d cut off and chews it, mulling over what she said. He likes knowing that she’d worried about it. This whole situation. It had felt to him, all this time, as though she’d just dropped everything and gone along with Farouk. “The whole thing’s  _ been _ unravelled. The whole thing’s been a mess, Syd, with you here, and me… out there.”

“Yes,” Syd says, too quickly. “But now you’re - here. Finally. We can  _ talk.”  _

There are so many things David wants to talk about that he can’t hone in on a single one of them. He wants to talk to her about what it was like,  _ out there, _ with only himself to trust; about how he had spent years collecting people to fight against them. And he wants to talk to her about what it was like for  _ her, _ to have to be here with Farouk all those same years. He can feel Divad in the back of his mind, prodding him to make up with her again, just the same as he can feel the fainter tug of Dvd’s thoughts, which want nothing to do with her.

So instead, he focuses on yesterday. “I wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t had to. I didn’t want to, but Farouk left me no choice.” He pauses. “Technically, he did. He said I could die. Or I could come here, for a month.”

Syd meets his eyes. “Do you want to talk about him,” she asks, “or us?”

He frowns. “It’s more than just us now.”

“Yes,” Syd says. She puts her fork down, slowly, her expression difficult to read. “I’ve talked about you. With him.”

David looks back down at his plate, focusing on his next bite of food before he decides he may as well ask her. “… Good things…?”

“Yes,” Syd says, and then, “And bad things.” She looks up at him. “He hurt you, and you hurt me.”

He feels the uncomfortable numbness of anxiety prickle at the bottoms of his fingers. Quickly, he sets his fork down, curling his fingers into his palm and resting his fist on the table. “Because I left you?”

“Because,” Syd says, “you raped me.”   
  
The word hangs in the air, cold and vast. David can feel goosebumps creep over his arms and the back of his neck, so painful he has to pull his arms back and drop them into his lap. In fact, everything hurts. He hadn’t expected it. Not so soon. Not ever. He’d decided, these last few years, not to think on it at all - to ignore it, to pretend like he’d never done it. Which is why it hits him like a truck now, that word.

His throat clenches, and he looks at the cup in front of him. His fingers ache too badly to take it, so he only nods, pursing his lips and staring at the glistening glass.  _ Willing  _ her to stop talking about it.

“It’s not -” Syd starts out, then stops. “I’ve thought about it,” she says. “How I can - how we can deal with it. The way you’re still, I’m still -” She cuts herself off, her fingers tense on her fork. “When it first happened, I thought you were a monster. That you were, were, that all of it was fake. And then I thought - I’m the monster. Pulling the gun on you like that, because - because he told me to, because of something you hadn’t even done yet.” There’s a silence. “You messed me up. For a long time.”

He’s still not looking at her, and he definitely still has the collar around his neck, suppressing his powers, but he can feel how tense she is, how anxious she is, how apprehensive she is to be talking about this to him. He’s anxious too, and he can feel his own nausea bubbling up inside of him - not because of the topic, but because of everything she’s admitting to him right now. As much as he’d known, since the trial, that what he’d done had messed with her, he hadn’t realized just how badly it had ruined her. “I didn’t know,” he says, but it sounds too much like he’s trying to somehow push her away again. He swallows. “I mean, I didn’t know, when I did it, that… and I didn’t know how much it hurt you. How it  _ would _ hurt you, I guess. I… it wasn’t because of what you did. Not really. It wasn’t because of  _ you.” _ The longer he speaks, the quieter his voice gets. He blinks, and his gaze slips to his fork. “I shouldn’t have. I could’ve just… I’m sorry.”

Syd isn’t looking at him. “Maybe,” she says, “we’re all monsters. Maybe that’s - maybe that’s the way it should be.”

_ That’s not right, _ says Dvd in his mind. His voice is louder now, like it’s somewhere close to his eardrum, and it makes David tilt his head.  _ We’re not all monsters. Just them. _

David moves his arm forward on the table, resting his fingers at the curve of his fork. They feel heavy, like they might suddenly turn to lead weights and fall right off his knuckles, like ribs off a bone. “Maybe,” he murmurs, but his voice sounds far away. Like it’s not his voice. He knows Dvd’s trying to steal it. He knows he should  _ let _ Dvd steal it. 

Syd gets up suddenly, reaching out to put a hand on the table next to David’s arm. “David, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Even quieter than his last words. He turns his face away and shuts his eyes. He’ll let Dvd take the helm, just for a while. Just until the conversation is over.

Something heavy settles in him, and it’s the last thing he feels before he backs off and lets Dvd take over the rest of the way.

Dvd doesn’t speak at first, waiting until his mind clears, until he can wake up enough to move. He blinks his eyes open, only feeling vulnerable for a moment before he shakes his head and rights himself into consciousness. He looks over at Syd, looking her over. He hasn’t been completely gone - he knows what to expect. But it’s still different, seeing her while he’s at the front. “I’m fine.” He looks back at the plate, movements still a little sluggish as he takes the fork and starts in on the food. “What were we talking about?”

Syd eyes him, warily. “I haven’t met you yet,” she says, slowly. 

He looks back at her and narrows his eyes. “Not formally. You’ve seen me around.” He straightens up, like he’s supposed to be making a good impression.

“All right.” Syd sits down slowly, takes a bite. Her eyes keep going to him. She’s withdrawn into herself again. It’s a long moment before she says, “Why didn’t you - he - tell me?

“He didn’t technically know about us.” Dvd lifts a shoulder, pushing his waffle into the syrup pooled on the plate. “He didn’t know that was how we worked until after he left.” His gaze moves from his food back to her. “He’s had a few years since then.”

There’s a silence. And then, “Farouk lied to you. He knew.”

Dvd raises a brow. He can’t say it’s a complete surprise. “Yeah, well, he’s always been a liar.” He cuts into a waffle. “When did he tell you?”

“Years ago. He said you weren’t insane.”

Now it’s his turn to be silent for a moment. He pushes the piece of waffle into the syrup. “You didn’t believe him?”

“I… didn’t know what to believe.” Syd takes a bite. “The last time we spoke, in the trial room - was that you?”

“Eventually,” Dvd answers. Now is his chance to tell her exactly when he had taken control in that room, and he wants to make sure she knows it. “When you all decided not to listen, I decided to do something about it.”

Syd looks up. “And David?” she says, an urgency in her voice. “What did he think? Did he - did he want to stay?”

“He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do.” Dvd takes a bite and lets the quiet draw the conversation out. “That’s why I came forward: to make the decision  _ for _ him.” He searches Syd’s face, observing how intent she seems to be. “He didn’t like everyone calling him sick.”

Syd studies his face in return. “He hurt me,” she says. “And he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t want to think about that, either.” Dvd tilts his head. He’s not one to feel so bad about things. Not like David. “You weren’t exactly nice to him, either.”

“I’m not a nice person,” Syd says, flatly.

Dvd scoffs. “Like that’s not clear enough.” He looks around the dining room. “You don’t get to a place like this without being a bad person. Or teaming up with one.”

Syd grins, slightly. “Maybe not. Why - are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous? You’re the one who made this world the way it is. Ruled it with Farouk, when you thought David would be the one to rule it and found him guilty for it, even though it hadn’t happened yet.” He narrows his eyes. “Or do you just not see it that way?”

“No,” Syd says, slowly. “No, I was… wrong. I realized that, eventually. And then I realized I didn’t want to be wrong. And I didn’t have to be.”

“Didn’t have to be?” 

“Reality is a choice,” Syd says, softly. “You taught me that. Remember?”

So that’s where she’s going with it. He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “Reality isn’t a choice when you’re destroying the world. It isn’t a choice when you’re next to one of the most powerful, most  _ terrible, _ people in this entire world. You’re ruining  _ everyone’s _ reality, just because you don’t want to admit you’re wrong. But you  _ are _ wrong.  _ He’s _ wrong. Reality is only a choice when it’s hurting you, not other people.”

“Reality wasn’t hurting me,” Syd states. “You were.”

Dvd sets his fork down. “Are you blaming everything you’ve done on me - on  _ us? _ Is that it?”

“No,” Syd says. “I’m not looking for an apology, David - Dvd.” She stumbles over the unfamiliar name. “I’m done with that, okay? I want you back. That’s what I’m looking for.”

He studies her for a moment. His instinct is to reach out and find out whether or not she’s actually telling the truth, but he can’t do that, and he scowls when he realizes and looks at the wall behind her. “So… you’re saying you don’t want to be hurt again.” Which isn’t an unfair request. No one wants to be hurt. But he doesn’t know if she’ll give the same back - not when she’s with Farouk. “Why do you think I’d have any reason not to?”

Syd meets his eyes. “Because David would never forgive you.”

“Maybe he agrees with me.” But he gets the feeling she knows he’s lying anyways. David doesn’t agree with most of the things he thinks, if only because he comes across as way more aggressive. Divad is the one who usually fronts when David needs a little bit of rational brain power. 

“Are you going to try to escape?” Syd asks him.

Very deliberately, Dvd reaches up, making a show of tugging at the collar around his neck. “I can’t,” he mutters bitterly. “I’m not an idiot. I try to escape, and Farouk will know in the same moment I make the choice. I try to do anything against you, or him, and something bad will probably happen to me.” His eyes flash. “But no promises.”

Syd studies his face. “I’ll make him let you go. Once the month is up. I keep my promises.” She hesitates. “To you, anyway.”

That piques his interest. “Do you not keep your promises to anyone else?” He doesn’t say his name, but he doesn’t make it a secret who he’s really talking about, either. 

“Just the one,” Syd says. 

He watches her. And then he looks back at his plate, finishing the last bit of his waffles. “You ever think about how what you’re doing is wrong?”

Syd looks up at him. “I used to,” she says, evenly. “Not anymore.”

“Well, you should. Because, unlike you, I can see through what you’re doing. You and him.” He sets his fork down. 

Syd tilts her head. “What are we doing?”

“You’re destroying the world. Destroying everything. Can’t you see?” Dvd leans back, crossing his arms. “You remember all the people that came with me when I invaded Division Three yesterday? No, you don’t. But all those people, all the mutants, they joined me because you hurt them. You ruined their lives.”

“Does that bother you?” Syd asks him, like she thinks it doesn’t. Like she’s spent so long with Farouk that it’s a bit of a surprise to her, that anyone  _ would  _ care.

Dvd blinks. He should have expected it, what with Syd having been around Farouk all this time, probably absorbing his very personality - who knows how much they share from that body swapping - but it still  _ surprises _ him. “Yes? It bothers me. David spent all his time with those people, you know. And you let them walk right into a trap. They all died.”

“I used to let things like that bother me,” Syd says. “Or maybe I didn’t, ever, but I thought I should. And then I finally figured out - it doesn’t matter, any of it.”

“You don’t think it matters that you let a bunch of people die?!” He can’t  _ believe _ what he’s hearing, and somewhere in the back of his mind, neither can David and Divad. “Of course it matters! Just because it’s not  _ you _ -” He pauses, suddenly realizing, in his anger, what he’s getting at. “Oh, but of course, you only care about people getting hurt when it’s  _ you  _ getting hurt. Otherwise, it’s fair game. Jesus Christ.”

“I care,” Syd says, very quietly. “About you.”

“Do you?! Because if you cared, you wouldn’t have gotten with that monster the second you saw me  _ disappear. _ You know what he did. You don’t care.”

“I know what  _ you  _ did, too!” Syd is on her feet, her hand clenched in the tablecloth, knocking the plates askew. 

Dvd follows her right up, catching his chair before it topples over. “And what’s that?! Leaving?! Killing people at Division Three? That was _Farouk!_ It was all because of _Farouk,_ _Blondie!”_

“You wiped my mind!” Syd hisses. “That’s what you did. And what did  _ I  _ do? Nothing! I always tried to save you! Always! Every time! And every time I tried to play the hero, what did I get?” She gestures between them.  _ “This!” _

“What do you mean,  _ you did nothing?”  _ He lifts a hand and starts counting on his fingers. “You tried to shoot us, for one! You called David the bad guy! You were obviously brainwashed by Farouk into thinking all that stuff, so he did what he had to do! It was like you didn’t even  _ blame _ Farouk for trying to wipe David’s whole mind! And you definitely don’t  _ now.” _

“Oh, which is it?” Syd snaps. “Am I brainwashed, or am I the evil slut leaving you for the bad guy? Pick one!”

“Maybe you’re both!” he yells, moving around his chair. He doesn’t move toward her, but away from her, putting the chair between them, like it’s some sort of buffer. “Maybe you just can’t see it because you’ve been with him too long!”

“Then why are you  _ here?”  _ Syd snaps. “Why even bother trying?”

“Because David still  _ cares!” _ Tense, Dvd edges away from the chair. “Because David still  _ loves you, _ even when he shouldn’t!”

Syd opens her mouth, stops, and stares at him, sets her jaw. After a long, long moment, she sits down, slowly. “Let’s finish eating.”

Dvd takes another step back. He starts to shake his head, then stops. He’s infuriated, but leaving won’t do any good for any of them. Not after they’d gotten so far. It’s Divad who taps at him, reminds him that he should sit back down and keep eating, at least, so they don’t starve to death. So he moves back to his seat, looking away from Syd as he sits and starts in on the last of his food. 

They eat in silence for a few moments, and eventually, Syd says, “There’s still something there. There has to be. So I’m going to - I’m going to keep waiting for you. A little longer.”

“You’re not the one who should be waiting,” Dvd answers, but he’s not nearly as loud and angry as he was just moments earlier. “Besides - you’re going to have to. I’ll be here a month.”

Syd offers him a weak smile. “A month is starting to seem pretty short.”

“Speak for yourself.” He finishes his last bite. “It’s long when you don’t have your powers.”

“I know,” Syd says. “But you’ll have them back before you know it. And in the meantime, I’ll be here to protect you.”

He watches her, but finds no trace of malice in her expression. “Even though you’re with him.”

“Yes,” Syd promises, meeting his eyes. “I won’t let him hurt you, or force you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Dvd looks her over, silent. She exudes the sort of power that convinced him, in fact, that she  _ can _ keep that promise. He still has his reservations that it’s Farouk fiddling with her, but this will do, too, so he nods. “We’ll see.”

“You’ll tell David what I said, right?” Syd asks. 

“Yeah. He’ll want to know.” A pause. “And he’ll probably want to know how I got through this -” He gestures around the room. “- without breaking anything.”

Syd looks satisfied enough by his answer, which he’s glad for. He doesn’t want to talk much about who he is for David. Not to Syd, and not right now, because the fog is already starting up in his mind again. He looks down at his plate, scraping the last few crumbs to the edge and eating what he can before he finally leans back, thankful to be able to put down his fork. He shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of Syd’s fork on her plate as she finishes the rest of her meal. Things are calm again, and David wants back, and Dvd doesn’t fight it. Lets him switch places again, lets David take control.

David doesn’t open his eyes for a while. Eventually, he opens them a crack, looking over the table with no thought in mind except that it’s not a very modest-looking table. Looks like it costs a fortune.

He sits up again, finally looking toward Syd. 

“Hi,” Syd says. “Welcome back.”

He feels exposed and open, and still a little hazy. Even more so with his powers absent. “Sorry.”

“You don’t - don’t have to apologize. Not for that, anyway.” Syd looks down at her plate. “You really didn’t know? When we were - when we were together?”

David blinks, not completely sure what she’s talking about, but present enough that he can make a guess. “About… this?” He gestures vaguely to his head. “Not really. I kind of knew  _ of _ them, but… not the full extent.”

“It’s weird,” Syd says, bluntly, and then adds, “That we both have other people in our heads. But yours are… you.”

“They don’t feel like me. I mean, okay, in my  _ head, _ they do…  _ look _ like me. But I…” And then it hits him, what she’s just said, about having people in her head, and he drops what he’s struggling with and eyes her. “What does that mean?”

“You. Amahl. The Eye. Whoever’s… passing through. That’s my power,” Syd says. 

“Oh. You mean like… temporary.” He rests his elbow on the table and props his chin up on his palm. His head still feels heavy. “Have you learned to control it any more?”

“Some,” Syd says. “Amahl’s been - helping. It’s harder when it always happens by accident - but if I choose it, if I can switch on purpose - that helps.”

“Mmm.” Strangely enough, David can understand how she feels and what she means by that. “It’s easier for me, too, when I choose it. To an extent.” Not that he had ever chosen to switch bodies with someone else before, on purpose. His thoughts shift to yesterday, and how he had found Syd in that room at Division Three, except it wasn’t Syd at all. She must have had control of Farouk’s body, then. His palms itch, and he looks back at his empty plate. He’s never had control of Farouk.

Except yesterday. And even that’s a  _ stretch. _

He clicks his tongue. Can’t keep the question off it. “Is it weird?”

“Weird?” Syd tilts her head, thinks about it. “I don’t know. I think maybe, sometimes, weird is… good.”

“But is it… does it  _ feel…” _ He’s not sure if he wants to know now. “Never mind. Is… how often do you…?”

“Does it bother you?” Syd asks, instead.

“No.” Yes. “Is it supposed to?”

“No,” Syd says. “I’m not doing it  _ at  _ you. It’s - this is for  _ me.  _ I used to think of my powers as a cage. Keeping me from touching anyone. But now it means I have this, this extra choice. I can be anyone. It’s good.”

David frowns. The thought of Syd being  _ anyone _ hadn’t occurred to him before, and he’s not sure that’s a good thing. In fact, it probably isn’t. “Can you… choose when to switch back?”

“Yes,” Syd says, nodding. “If I need - out.”

“So, hypothetically, you could… switch bodies with someone, walk into the middle of a battlefield, and switch back.”

“Yeah,” Syd says. “If I wanted to.” She watches him, carefully.

That sounds more like something that could happen, in  _ this _ world. He leans back, pulling his arm off the table - a nearly subconscious attempt to keep himself safe from exactly that. “But they could do the same with your body.”

Syd’s eyes go to his arm. “Yes. It’s a matter of trust. Or - control. One or the other.”

It seems clear to David that she trusts Farouk. That there’s some semblance of control between them. He  _ knows _ Farouk is tipping the scales in his own favour. “Not both?” Maybe she knows that. 

Syd meets his eyes. “Both works.” 

“How do you know both are happening?” he shoots back, unable to help himself. She has to  _ know -  _ she has to see what Farouk has done to her. There has to be a way to snap her out of it. “It has to be mutual.”

“Because I can keep him out,” Syd says. “It’s - part of my powers, I think. I can shut out telepathy, if I want to. Defend myself some. I have - options.”

David raises a brow. Without thinking, he tries to stretch his mind out, to see if it’s really true. It doesn’t work, of course, and he ends up hugging his arms around his abdomen and looking at the wall in front of him instead. “When did you find that out?”

“Awhile after you left. I was - worried.” Syd goes silent, for a moment, and then asks, “David, are you afraid of me?”

His arms tighten a bit more. In a way, he is. He feels vulnerable. She could touch him right now, if she wanted to, and switch bodies with him, just like that, and he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. And being powerless doesn’t help him when it comes to  _ not _ being afraid. Maybe he’s not afraid. Maybe he’s just bothered by everything going on around him. He takes a breath, and then shrugs. 

Syd reaches out, and offers him her hand, clad in a black glove. He watches it for a moment, as though the glove might melt away the moment he reaches for it. Slowly, he reaches out for her hand, stopping just short of touching. 

Syd closes the distance and touches him.

It’s the first time, he realizes, that they’ve actually held hands. He sits there for a long moment, and says nothing. Nothing is happening. No sudden swap, no speaking. The room is absolutely silent, and he’s more than aware of the two of them sitting here, hand-in-hand. It’s been years since he’s seen her, and now…

“You - You used to feel like… like  _ ants, _ under your skin. You told me, at Summerland.” He’s watching their hands. “Do you still feel that way?”

“I was afraid,” Syd says, quietly. “It was like - every time someone was near me, I was waiting, watching, in case they moved suddenly, in case they brushed me. It’s still not - easy. But when I know what’s going to happen, when I’m used to it - it feels right. Sometimes.” She leans closer to him. Close enough to kiss. 

David’s heart spurs painfully in his chest, suddenly, both in a rush of adoration, for her, and fear, that they’ll touch and switch. She might have been planning it all along - he should have known it - and he won’t let her. Quickly, he pulls back, enough so that their lips aren’t in such danger of touching. “I - I can’t.  _ We…  _ can’t.”

Syd leans back, running a hand through her hair, not looking at him for a moment. “No. Of course. It’s - it’s okay. I won’t - push you.” She looks down.

“I want to,” he blurts, unable to stop himself. But they can’t. His powers are as good as dormant, for the moment, and he can’t make an astral room for them to touch. And that’s the only way he’ll touch her, because, he realizes, he doesn’t know what will happen if they swap. Not now. She can take powers when she swaps - maybe she can take people, too. “You’re not - you’re not pushing. I just - we can’t… we can’t switch.” 

“It’s okay,” Syd says. She busies herself by piling the dishes to one side, settling her napkin on top. “Is there anything you - is there anything I can get for you? Books, clothes, I don’t know - I - I want you to be comfortable here.”

“I have my lamp,” he says, even though he figures Syd already knows as much. He’s grateful, at least, that she cares about making him feel comfortable. “I’m okay.” Which is a lie, but it’s as close as he’ll get to telling her that nothing will ever help.

_ “Whatever  _ you want,” Syd says, looking up at him. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He offers her a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll remember that.” He pauses: then, thinking he should add it: “Thanks.”

Syd straightens the stack of plates. “You’re welcome. I’ll be - I’ll be right next door, if you need me.”

He sits quietly, watching as she stands and heads for the door. Even the way she walks is different. Not in a bad way. But somehow, it’s not the same as before. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s dressed to fit in to this fancy mansion - this fancy  _ prison  _ of his. Or maybe it’s just more of Farouk’s influence, bearing down on her so that her very physicality reflects who she is with  _ him  _ by her side.

Either way, he’s up before she can reach the door. “Syd? I was told I can’t go anywhere without someone with me, and I want to go outside, and - we haven’t seen each other in years. Do you… want to go for a walk, or something?”

Syd stops and hesitates, as if she’s wondering if that’s safe. Then she turns back to him. “All right. I can - show you the sights, or whatever?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.” He pushes his chair in. “They brought me here in a limo, and I didn’t get to see… anything.”

“There’s a garden,” Syd says, offering David a smile.

David’s surprised by that. He doesn’t know what he expected the outside of the mansion to be. Grassy, maybe. Statues everywhere. Walkways. Something…  _ mansion-y. _ Neither Syd nor Farouk seem like the type to keep a garden. “Maybe we can see that, too.”

Syd leads the way out of the dining room, down the lavish hallways, down a long staircase, and out a small back door. The garden is equally elegant, roses and elegant climbing ivy. Delicate glazed pottery with geometric patterns painted on them hold sprawling honeysuckles and jasmines.

“Amahl likes all this stuff,” Syd says. “The flowers, and all.”

Blinking, David looks at Syd out of the corner of his eye. She’s just called Farouk by his first name, which… He shakes his head and looks away. Which isn’t something  _ he’ll _ be doing. “They look like something he’d like.” He crouches next to a decorated pot, tracing the patterns with his eyes. The flowers smell stronger from here, pleasant. “Do you?”

“They’re fine,” Syd says. She smiles slightly. “But I have my own garden.”

He raises a brow, straightening back up. “And it doesn’t look like this?”

“Not quite,” Syd says, smiling. “It’s this way.” She walks over to a wooden fence, opens the gate, and beckons him through.

The garden beyond is smaller, darker, simpler. There’s a sapling in the center, propped up by a wooden stakes. Tomato plants grow in ragged, chaotic rows, and blackberry plants, barely restrained by wire, curl and twine around the edges of the space, reaching up the fences.

“This is  _ my  _ garden,” Syd says.

David steps into the garden. He’s struck by the thought that this, by all means, should be  _ Farouk’s _ garden. Not Syd’s. This isn’t like her. “Wow,” he breathes, moving to look at the little sapling. He wants to stay away from the edges of the garden. “This is…”

“Home,” Syd says. “A space of my own. It took me months to even let him in here.”

Completely her own garden, apparently. He doesn't think that’s entirely the case. There has to be some influence here from Farouk. Even if she can’t see it herself. “It doesn’t look bad.” He frowns, turning to look at her. “Am I intruding?”

“No,” Syd says. “I invited you.”

He clicks his tongue and nods, looking around her garden again. “It’s good to see someone can still grow gardens in this world.”

“You could, too,” Syd suggests. “You could have your own garden, next to mine. It’d be - peaceful. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

David shakes his head. “Not like this,” he says. He can’t brush aside how different this vision is compared to what he used to have in mind, so long ago. What he still has in mind, bubbled in a desperate hope that he can still change things. “Not after what’s happened.”

Syd’s shoulders slump. She turns away, picking up a watering can and sprinkling water on a tomato plant that doesn’t look like it needs it. Although he can’t read her mind, David knows she’s feeling bad about it - about his refusal. It gives him a bit of hope, that she can still be swayed. That’s what he’d come here to do.

“Everything’s changed,” he says, turning his back on her and focusing back on a little green leaf on the sapling. “You’ve let people die, you’ve -  _ killed _ people. You’re with  _ him. _ And… Syd, it’s wrong. What you’re doing, what you’ve done.”

Syd looks back at him. “Do you believe that? Or is that what you’ve been told to believe?”

_ “Told _ to believe? I haven’t been  _ told _ anything! I  _ know _ it’s wrong. Teaming up with Farouk, for one, that’s really wrong.”

“Haven’t you?” Syd presses. “That’s how it works, isn’t it? Red is bad and green is good. We all believe what we’re told - what the humans tell us. Until one day we wake up, and realize we don’t have to.”

“What the  _ humans -” _ David gapes at her. The garden suddenly feels too small, too tight. He doesn’t move, pressing his nails into his palm. “There are some things that are universally bad. Killing people. Running the world with the scum of the earth.” He casts his gaze away, back toward the mansion. “It’s not right.”

Syd is silent for a moment. And then she says, “I don’t care.”

David blinks. He doesn’t understand. “What?”

“I don’t care if it’s wrong. Maybe I should. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.” Her eyes are fixed on the blackberry plants, not meeting his. “But I don’t. I don’t know if I ever did, really.”

His thoughts jump immediately to the day he’d tried to kill Farouk. He would have, too, if she hadn’t been there to stop him. “You cared a hell of a lot who the bad guy was when you were pointing that gun at me!”

“I was wrong,” Syd says, flatly. “Maybe we’re all the bad guys. Maybe that’s what we were always meant to be.”

“We’re not meant to be the bad guys, Syd!” He lets out a breath, and sharply inhales another one. “You and me, we’re - we’re supposed to be the  _ good  _ guys. The both of us. Farouk, he’s the devil.”

“That’s how he sees things, too,” Syd says. “Heroes, villains. Like the whole world is a storybook. But it’s not.”

“Syd…” She doesn’t  _ sound _ like Syd. She sounds like someone who’s been brainwashed by Farouk. “You don’t really think that.”

“I always thought that,” Syd says, quietly. After a moment, she turns towards him, not quite yet meeting his eyes, but looking at the ground near him. “Do you remember the time I told you about how I lost my virginity?”

It takes him a moment. He had forgotten - that was years ago, back before any of this had gotten so bad. But now he remembers - remembers living through her life, over and over again, until he had finally figured out how to break her from her maze. Until he had finally figured out who she was. Or, at least, he’d thought he had. “Why?”

“The first time I told you,” Syd continues, “you said, ‘you didn’t know, you didn’t know what your powers could do.’ Like you’d forgotten, or couldn’t believe that I did, I had, I knew what I was doing. And I wondered - does he love me? Or does he love this image of me in his head? This picture of a woman who’s softer and kinder and simpler than me.”

He shakes his head, looking away, at one of the many curling vines around the fence. “No… I wasn’t… You told me, and I still - I didn’t know, but that didn’t mean I…” He thinks he knows what she’s going to say: about how this is her. But it can’t be. Not when Farouk’s crawled inside her mind. “This isn't a matter of my image of you. This is… this is a matter of you being… being  _ influenced, _ somehow.”

“So was I being influenced back then, too?” Syd says, harshly.

“No!” He narrows his eyes. “No, but that was  _ different. _ You were…” Younger. Does it really matter? “Farouk wasn’t part of it back then, but…  _ now _ he is.”

“Yeah,” Syd says. A little smile curves her lips. “He’s the brawn. I’m the brains.”

“He shouldn’t be part of anything!” David snaps. He lifts his hands to the sides of his head, letting out a long breath. This isn’t getting anywhere. “Jesus, Syd, you… you have it all  _ wrong.” _

“No,” Syd says, taking a step closer. “You’re the one who’s confused, David. Let me  _ show  _ you.”

“I’m not confused about anything!” David moves a step away from her, whirling to face her. “I’m  _ not. _ I’m doing what I’ve been doing, all my life. Which is… which is to leave people  _ alone.” _

“Which people - the guards you killed on the way in to Division Three, or the rebels you suckered into charging after you and getting yourself killed?” Syd fires back.

“What, because I’m trying to stop two of the most powerful and  _ terrible _ people in the world?!” He curls his fingers in his hair, pressing his teeth into his lip. “Or - or at least _ one _ of them? Excuse me if I don’t think the guy who tried to take my whole mind over is a very good guy!”

“This isn’t about who’s a  _ good guy.  _ It’s about  _ us.  _ You, and me, and him. That’s what it’s  _ always  _ been about.”

“He shouldn’t factor in at all!” He lets go of his hair, pressing a knuckle into his eyelid. He doesn’t  _ want _ Farouk to factor in. Doesn’t want Farouk anywhere but away from him, and away from Syd. “What’s so hard to get?!”

“But he does,” Syd snaps. “He was there when I met you, and he was there for me when you left me. And I -” She takes a deep breath. “I love him.”

David feels cold discomfort creep straight up his back, curling over his shoulder blades and up his neck. Then there’s the nausea in his stomach, and then sudden, numbing prickling at the insides of his arms. He shakes his head, taking another step away, trying to arc around her, back to the gate. “No you… no you  _ don’t. _ It’s - this is Farouk, it’s just…”

“I love him,” Syd repeats, defiantly. “And I love you too.”

He falters only for a moment, before continuing to edge his way toward the gate. “You can’t - you can’t love him  _ and _ me.”

“I can,” Syd says. “I do.” And then, breathing in a deep sigh, she steps out of his way, letting him past her. “You aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”

He can’t even think five seconds ahead of him, let alone plan anything stupid. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. “It doesn’t matter!” he snaps. “You already took my powers away. It’s not like I  _ can.” _

Syd takes a step closer, back towards him. “I’ll take you back to your room. You can sit down. Think about this.”

“I don’t need you to take me back to that room,” he mutters, hopping a step away and turning his back on her. “I can find my way back.”

Syd backs off. “All right,” she says. “All right. I trust you.” She looks down at her tomato plants. “Even if you don’t trust me anymore.”

He stops at the gate, looking back at her. She doesn’t seem so upset, and he can’t help the words that bubble up his throat and spill out of his mouth. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t trust you anymore. I don’t trust  _ something _ here.” His chest tightens, and he whirls, hurrying away from her garden.

When he’s nearly through Farouk’s garden, he slows, listening for footsteps. 

Syd doesn’t follow.

There are tears in his eyes. Even through them, he manages to find his way through the maze of a mansion, retracing the halls he can remember until he finds his room. He slams his door, managing to make it into the bathroom before he lets himself cry.

He walked away from Syd, but he can’t shake the feeling of having been abandoned, of having been left. A tiny, childish part of him wishes Syd would rush after him, would plead him to reconsider.

But she doesn’t. He remembers the last time he felt like this - years ago, when Lenny left the rebel group. It had been over his powers, the way he used them - not indiscriminately, like Farouk did, but just a shift, a tiny push in the minds of one of the rebels who was faltering. And Lenny had - Lenny didn’t understand. Just like Syd. 

He hates this - he  _ hates _ this situation. He hates that Farouk had ever possessed him, hates that he’d left her there with Farouk, back at Division Three, hates how he hadn’t just killed Farouk anyways, the night before the trial, hates that he’d let himself get captured. He doesn’t have any of his group left. And even if they were alive, they wouldn’t have the numbers to come rescue him from here. And now, he’s trapped here, with the woman he still loves with her eyes on someone else. He doesn’t know whether or not he can trust her when she says she loves him. Maybe she was just saying that. It sounds like something Farouk would do, after all, and they’re together.

When he’s finished, he rinses his face off, wets a towel with cold water, and presses it to his eyes and nose. Maybe this is what Farouk wanted: for him to break. To shatter into so many pieces that he couldn’t possibly put himself back together. He can’t let that happen.

He returns to his room, mulling over his situation for another half an hour. Maybe an hour. He doesn’t need to keep track of time here, when he won’t be let out anyways.

When he’s composed himself enough, he makes his way out of his room. He needs to find Farouk, to tell him that he still has hope. He doesn’t have the powers to convince Syd that way - to wipe away the brainwashing - but there’s still hope.

None of Farouk’s minions seems disturbed to see David wandering the palace - in fact, when he asks one where Farouk is, the man happily points him down a corridor to another vast room. Farouk is standing there, looking out a large picture window at his kingdom below. His expression is strangely cold and distant.

David steps into the room. “I’m not giving up,” he says, loudly, to announce his presence. “I don’t care what you’re trying to do, or what you think you’re doing.”

“All I’m trying to do is make you see me the way I really am,” Farouk says, his voice flat.

“Through Syd? She can’t convince me of anything. Not about you. I know what you are - I see through it.” He takes a few more steps into the room, keeping the door open. “You’re nothing. You’ve been nothing since the day… since the day my  _ father _ beat you. You should’ve just faded out of existence. You should’ve  _ died.  _ You should have never found me, you should never have possessed me and tried to take me over.” The longer he talks, the louder his voice becomes. It’s not a furious volume, but it’s loud enough that he’s sure it can be heard from the hallways. Not that anyone will come running for him should he need it. No - they’re on the side of the man who brainwashed the woman he loved into taking the opposite side. On the side of pure evil. “I regret every single day that I didn’t just kill you when you were in that cell in Division Three, because that’s the last thing you ever deserved to see before you died. Just a few walls, with a spiked halo burrowed into your head. Powerless.” And now,  _ David _ is the one who’s powerless, with a collar around his throat, like some stray dog needing to be tamed. “Whatever you did to Syd, I’m going to end it. Powers or no powers, you’re going to regret ever letting me come here. I will  _ never _ hear you out, Farouk. Ever.”

Farouk turns around slowly. His face is still. “I’m not Farouk,” he says, evenly. He looks up at David. “It’s me. Syd.”

David watches him for a long moment, his expression falling from angry to blank. He glances around the room, as though that might somehow reveal Syd to him so that he could know for certain. “… How can…”

“Close your eyes,” Farouk says, stepping closer, and David feels Syd’s mind reaching out to his - powerful and familiar, just like she’d been in the white room. Farouk’s hand reaches out and settles on his cheek, and despite himself, his eyes slide shut. “You can see me, can’t you?” Syd says. “In your mind?”

He wouldn’t call it  _ seeing, _ per se, yet he can perceive Syd’s presence in front of him, like a blip on the radar: a radar that’s not entirely his. That’s just as much Farouk’s - or Syd’s, in this moment - as it is a perception of his own mind, thoughts strewn into a mental image. It’s Farouk’s hand resting on his cheek, but it’s Syd who’s touching him, with his eyes shut like this. He doesn’t open them, but he frowns. “Why?”

“We can touch now,” Syd says. She strokes his cheek. “That’s what you always wanted, isn’t it? Well, now I’m - I’m ready. I’m  _ here,  _ David. Don’t push me away again.”

He wants to pull away, but he also doesn’t. This is Syd who’s touching him, not Farouk. But the voice, the look - 

He blinks his eyes open, but doesn’t look her in the face. “It’s Farouk’s body,” he says, much quieter than he intended. 

“I know,” Syd says, softly. “But he’s not here right now. It’s just us.” She leans in, and her lips - Farouk’s lips - are tantalizingly close to his. He feels his face go red, and heat flush his body. He’s horrified and at the same time drawn, pulled to lean closer, her breath on his lips - 

Until he thinks about the fact that this is Farouk - may as well be Farouk. His heart spurs, and he draws back just enough so that he can see her eyes, gasping and looking her over. “Syd -” He wants to kiss her - “I - he’s  _ here,  _ just -” He still… wants to kiss her. Still feels the tug to lean in again, to press their lips together. This is  _ Farouk. _ It’s Syd, but it’s  _ Farouk. _ He doesn’t want to kiss Farouk. He frowns. But he still wants to, even if it is Farouk - and he knows he shouldn’t. And that worries him. The desire can’t be coming from his own mind. “What are you doing? What’s - what is he doing?”

“We switched bodies,” Syd says. “That’s all. He’s not here. It’s me, David.”

“No, no - what’s he doing to…” He looks into her eyes again, solid and oddly warm and brown. They’re not difficult to look at, he realizes, and that disturbs him too. It’s just Syd - it’s only Syd who’s looking at him, that’s all. “I… I don’t know if - it’ll be like kissing Farouk.”

“Just shut your eyes,” Syd says, gently. She doesn’t move to close the distance between them, but she doesn’t back away. “Listen to my voice.”

“But your voice is  _ Farouk’s.” _ He pulls back, uncertain, and is suddenly hit with a memory of another hesitant kiss - not a kiss at all, but the touching of a reflection upon a reflection, in the middle of a psychiatric hospital, in the dark windows that overlooked New York. Syd had been the uncertain one then, but David had cared. He’d listened. He knew. And Syd is doing the same for him now.

He blinks his eyes shut, his heart knocking in his chest. He can sense her again in front of him, even stronger than the first time. 

Syd’s hands slowly come to rest on David’s back, and he’s pulled into a hug, her arms wrapped around him, her chin resting on his shoulder, warm and close and human.  _ I’m here,  _ her voice says in his mind.  _ It’s all right.  _

David squeezes his eyes shut tighter. “Syd…” He leans into her, lowering his head and burying his mouth and nose into the side of her neck. She feels like a warm blanket around him, and he can’t help melting against her. He’s already cried once, but he can feel the tears threatening at his eyes again. “I’m sorry.”

_ It’s okay,  _ Syd says, holding him close, her hands tracing gentle circles on his back.  _ It’s okay. I love you, David. I - I think I’m always going to. _

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs again, but he doesn’t know what he’s sorry for. Everything. For leaving, for letting this happen. For abandoning her more than once, and for hurting her worse than he ever thought he would. He takes in a long breath - Farouk’s scent, but right now, he doesn’t care - and nuzzles into her neck. “I love you too. That’s why - that’s why I came back.”

“I was waiting for you,” Syd says. “And when you came back, when he brought you back, I was afraid it was just - that you didn’t want to be here. That you hated me now.” She turns her head, her lips brushing against his neck. 

David tilts his head. Her lips are warm, and a comfort he won’t deny. “I don’t hate you,” he says. “The opposite. I care. I still care. I care so much, I just want to… want to see you happy.”

“I want you to be happy too,” Syd murmurs. “You can be happy here. With me. With us.”

“I can’t be happy with both, Syd. You know that.” 

Syd holds him, in silence for a moment. Then she says, “Okay.”

David reaches up around her shoulder, pressing his knuckle into his eyelid. He’s not sure if she understands, or if she’s just saying that to appease him, but he doesn’t care at the moment. He presses his cheek to her head and sighs. “I wish I’d come sooner.”

“Me too,” Syd says, softly. “Will you - will you stay the rest of the month? Just - stay. Give it a chance. Give us a chance to show you what it can be like.”

He stops himself from telling her that he doesn’t want to stay - he doesn’t  _ want _ to be here, without his powers, two feet from Farouk himself. As much as he doesn’t, he also wants to be near Syd, and this, it seems, is the only way. The only way to come close enough that he can convince her to leave with him, without anyone fighting him back. “That’s what I agreed to.”

“All right,” Syd says. She pulls back slightly from him. “Sit with me for a bit?”

He looks at her - at Farouk’s face, with Syd’s expressions - and then looks away again, nodding. Syd pulls him to the couch, positioned to look out over the grounds. Her arms wrap around him again, and he leans against her, a little sigh slipping out of his mouth. She’s comfortable. He looks down at his fingers, chewing at the inside of his lip. “How much did he tell you? About… me coming here?”

“Everything,” Syd answers. “As far as I know.” Her fingers curl around his, intertwined. They’re larger than her own hands, and warm. Entirely not hers. He can’t get that out of his mind.

So he shuts his eyes, resting his chin against her shoulder. “‘Everything as far as you know’ isn’t helpful.” He laughs, a quick breath out his nose. It’s not that funny. “Did he just tell you I’d be staying for a month?”

“Something like that,” Syd says. “He said he was being merciful. Giving you a second chance.” She laughs at that.

“A second chance… sure.” That means Farouk hadn’t told her about the wager. He still has a chance at convincing her. If she ever finds out before the month is up, before he has time to  _ really _ convince her, then there’s no way he’ll be able to sway her. “If you call suffering with Farouk in the same building for a month a mercy, then sure.”

Syd snorts. “Amahl doesn’t believe in mercy. He brought you here for  _ me.  _ You know that, right?” 

He thinks back to last night, when Farouk has snapped that very same thing back to him during their argument. “Yeah. I know that. He told me.” He shuts his eyes, so that he can see Syd again. “I definitely didn’t come here for him.”

Syd is silent for a moment. Her bare hand comes up to brush through his hair. “I guess I never said thank you. For coming here. For - trying.”

He focuses on her touch. It’s nice and calming, and reminds him of the way his mother used to run her fingers through his hair, whenever he was having trouble sleeping at night. “I would always try for you. I haven’t been around, but I’ve… been trying.”

“I want to kiss you,” Syd says. “Can I? On the cheek, if that’s - if that’s easier?”

He frowns, shutting his eyes tighter and lifting his head. “Can I keep my eyes closed?”

“Yes,” Syd says, and then, psychically:  _ I’m here. It’s me. Just me. _

Her voice, familiar and comforting, spurs his heart in his chest. He knows it’s her. He knows he shouldn’t care about anything other than the fact that this is her. And so, before she can do it herself, he leans in, eyes still shut, and presses his lips to her cheek, brushing them down until they’re at the corner of her lips. 

Syd makes a soft noise, and cups his face, and it’s Farouk’s voice, but it’s  _ Syd.  _ After all these years, they’re  _ here,  _ back together again in each other’s arms, quiet and vulnerable and open. David hasn’t had this since he’d left her - left them all - and he doesn’t want to let go.

He pulls back, but keeps his eyes shut. He’ll ruin the moment for himself if he opens them. “I still love you,” he murmurs. “I tried so hard to stop myself. To…  _ forget _ about it. But I couldn’t.”

“I love you too. Even when I shouldn’t.”

Pursing his lips, David lowers his head. “Maybe it’s better… that you think that.”

He hears the frown in Syd’s, Farouk’s, voice. “Think what?”

“That you think you shouldn’t love me.” Still, David settles himself against her, like those words mean nothing to him. They mean enough that his palms ache, and that he can’t look at her. “It means we still think different things.” It means there’s another reason why she’d ended up following Farouk, which means there’s still something in her to change.

Better than agreeing and having no more reason to be here. He doesn’t want to think about that possibility.

Syd hugs him tightly to her. She moves slightly, and her lips brush against his cheek again. “We both have a choice to make.”

David doesn’t open his eyes. “It’ll have to be in the next month. Farouk says -” He pauses and frowns. No. Telling her he has to stay forever would give her the chance to  _ never _ change her mind. Besides that - he won’t stay forever. He’ll find a way out. He takes a breath. “Farouk says I can only be here for the month. It’s like… a cease-fire. Peace treaty.”

“Yeah,” Syd says, noncommittally. She leans against him. “We’re having a thing. A party, to celebrate you being here. There’ll be food, dancing - you know. I don’t like parties, but he does.”

“A party?” That’s a strange thing to think about: the two of them holding a party for  _ him. _ With food and dancing… it sounds fancy. He doesn’t remember ever going to a fancy party in his life, least of all a party where he doesn’t know anyone. “Who’s coming?”

“Our friends,” Syd says, easily. “Our followers. You won’t be alone - you know us, right?”

“Yeah, I know, but…” He trails off. Either way, he’s going to feel out of place, even with Syd and Farouk there. He presses his cheek against her shoulder and sighs. “When?”

“In a few days,” Syd says, squeezing him gently. “You won’t be out of place. This is for you. All of this is for you. This is  _ your  _ place.”

He doesn’t know what to say for a moment. They may be throwing it all for him, but that doesn’t mean he likes it here. He won’t let Farouk trick him into trusting him again, like he had before he’d killed Amy. “I don’t belong here, Syd.”

Syd is silent for a moment. “Why not?” she asks.

“Because here, I’m chained up with this -” He lifts a hand and tugs at his collar - “around my neck, which stops my powers. I’m constantly on watch. I can’t  _ leave. _ I belong out there.” He nods his head toward the door.

“Out there?” Syd says, softly. “Away from me?”

“No, Syd, that’s not…” He leans back, looking at her. “That’s not what I meant. I just - I don’t belong…  _ chained up.” _

“You won’t be,” Syd promises. “Not forever.”

David knows what that means: if he agrees to stay, the collar won’t be necessary. “I want to be with you, Syd. But I don’t want to be… here.” The word feels heavy as it falls from his lips.

Syd looks at him like she’s looking across a vast gulf. “You don’t have to be afraid,” she says, after a moment.

“I’m  _ not,” _ he insists, rolling his shoulders against the sudden shiver that runs up his spine. He’d said the same thing, a long, long time ago. He’s not sure Clark was very afraid then, either. “I’m not afraid of either of you.”

“Good,” Syd says. “I don’t want you to be.  _ We  _ don’t want you to be.” Her mind brushes against his, shyly, inviting him in.

He’s hesitant at first, unused to Syd’s mind against his. It’s been years since he was with her in the Astral Plane, and even then, he had been the one to touch her mind, not the other way around. Without a word, he presses his mind into hers, clinging to what power she has to keep himself afloat.

Syd’s mind twines around his, and he can feel her joy, her relief. How much she missed him.

For both of them, it’s like coming home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for reading! If you liked what you read - or even if you didn't - please leave us your thoughts in the comment box below!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David's captors offer him blood and the stars.

David can’t sleep again that night. When he drifts off, he’s tormented by nightmares of tapeworms and maggots, feeding on his flesh, and the Devil with Yellow Eyes.

He sits up in bed, the blankets wrapped around himself, and flicks on the star-pattern lamp. Painted in stars and shadows, the big room seems smaller, more familiar. He can almost imagine that everything that happened in the last few years was a dream, that he’s back home, safe in his room.

But he’s not.

The door opens, and he looks up to see a figure silhouetted in the doorframe. He knows immediately who it is: the monster under the bed himself, Amahl Farouk. David draws his blankets up over his shoulders and presses his chin into them. He hardly feels protected. Even so - no matter how much he hates Farouk, there’s a part of him that sees Syd there, standing in Farouk’s body: not quite dangerous, but not quite safe, either.

“I miss it, sometimes,” Farouk says, quietly. “That house. Our life there.”

David looks down at the sheets. It’s strange, not being able to detect Farouk reading his mind. Before, he could guess. Could at least feel _something_ brush against his mind. Now, he doesn’t feel anything. Maybe that’s better. Better to remember the way Syd’s mind had brushed against his earlier. “Things were better there.”

Farouk laughs, and looks down. “I didn’t think that then. Nor did you. Now we are free. Isn’t that better?”

It’s not a rhetorical question; Farouk sounds like he’s asking the question of himself as much as of David. 

“It’s better for one of us.” For once, David doesn’t feel bitter about it. Mostly, he feels numb. “I didn’t get lost in the hallways, at least.”

Farouk shakes his head. “It’s not the palace that bothers you. It is us.” 

David shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, you’re most of the reason. I went to Division Three to kill you, not to live in a mansion with you.” He presses his lips together, plucking at a loose thread on the sheets.

“And yet you are here,” Farouk says, quietly. “And you must figure out what to do with that.” 

David lifts a brow, but he doesn’t look directly at him. He watches him out of the corner of his eye, keeping his gaze on the covers of the bed, on the thread between his fingers. His _intent_ had been to come here and get Syd to see his side of things and then kill Farouk. That had been the plan. And as far as he’s concerned, that will always be the plan. He just can’t do it right now.

“You could join the two of us,” Farouk says. “Your beloved and I.” He gestures to the door behind him.

For a moment, David can think of nothing to say. He stares at the door, thinking of Syd in the bed beyond and of Farouk beside her and wondering why Farouk would ask that he join in the first place. Farouk’s made it plenty clear he wants him to join their cause, but the prospect of offering to share a bed - it’s shocking.

But it’s also been hours since he’d gotten into bed, and his plaguing nightmares hadn’t helped him sleep alone in his bed. He’s tired, he’s lonely, and he wonders what it would be like if he agreed. If he walked through the door and curled up between them and went to sleep. If the nightmares would go away then.

He shakes the thoughts away, scooting to the edge of the bed and pushing himself to his feet. “No, I’m - I’m not joining you. No thanks.”

Farouk is silent for a moment. And then he says, “At first, I believed I needed to separate the two of you. I was jealous - of you for having her, and of her for having you. But it’s been years. I realized, I can have you both. Why should I fight to separate the two of you, when I want you both? There is no need. The three of us can be happy together. All you have to do is say yes.”

“I’m not saying yes to you.” He keeps his gaze down and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like thinking about Farouk having Syd. Doesn’t like thinking about Farouk having his way. “The three of us will never be happy together.”

“We could be.” Farouk says. “Think about it. We would be the kings of the world, and she would be our queen.” He reaches out, and lays a hand on David’s arm. “You have been strong for so long, my dear. And now you don’t have to be alone anymore. Isn’t that what you want?” He leans in, his voice soft. “You are a good person. You deserve to be loved.”

“I’m not alone. I have plenty of people. I’m not alone.” David shuts his eyes, prodding his mind for something to confirm. Someone’s voice. Divad’s, Dvd’s, someone’s. “Just - they’re just not here at the same time I am.”

“I know,” Farouk says, softly. “But you want more. You want her. Just like I do.”

David frowns. “But why? Why do _you_ want her?” There’s something burning in his chest, and he knows it’s jealousy. “Because I had her? I had her, so now _you_ have to have her to one-up me, is that it?”

Farouk is watching him, thoughtfully. “Yes,” he says, “And no. I love her because you love her.” He shakes his head. “You think it’s so simple, for the two of us to walk away from each other. But we were part of one another. I felt what you felt. In that first moment, when you saw her - I felt it too.”

David looks back toward the door. Something prickles inside of him, uncomfortable. Farouk doesn’t sound like he’s lying. There’s none of his usual guile, and it unnerves David. “We were separated from each other. I forced you out. How can you still feel like that?”

Farouk smiles slightly. “Because we cannot be disentangled that easily. Tell me - where do you end, and I begin? After all those years, can you really be certain you know where the lines are?”

“I know what the lines are. I know who _you_ are.” David gestures between them. “And I know who I am. We’re not the same people. Maybe… we have the same memories, but we’re not the same.”

Farouk shakes his head, and looks away. “Perhaps. Sometimes I think she is more like me than you are.”

For a moment, David doesn’t know what to say. They’re only words, but they strike a chord in him that has him blinking back the sting in his eyes and looking away. “She plotted to take over the world with you. I didn’t.”

“You could,” Farouk says, meeting his eyes. He comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “You could change it, you know. Our regime. You could rule by our side, see things done the way they ‘should’ be done.”

“I can’t.” David shakes his head. “I couldn’t. That’s not… what you’re doing, you wouldn’t change that. Not for me. If you wanted that, you would’ve already done it.”

“You know what she would do for you,” Farouk says. “These people, my _subjects,_ the little crawling people who wander through this world waiting for us to tell them what to do - I don’t care about them. Not really. But I care about her. And you. That’s all there is.”

Scoffing, David turns away, wandering to a dresser nearby and opening a drawer to distract himself. Give him something to do. “That’s why you put this collar around my neck and took away my powers, right? Because you care?”

“How does the song go?” Farouk says. “‘I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that’?”

“You know my powers are important,” David mutters, turning to look at him. “Of all people. Isn’t that what you’d say? So - you must know what I’m going through.” He reaches up, running his thumb along the collar. There are scratches, just barely noticeable, from where he had tried to slice it with the razor. “It _sucks.”_

Farouk approaches him, and reaches out to brush his finger over the leather of the collar. “Let me prove it to you,” he says, suddenly. “Let me show you that I understand.”

David is reminded of Syd, not several hours ago - the careful way she had handled him and hovered near him. He doesn’t pull away, although he turns his head and watches Farouk out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not real if you do some mind thing.”

“It will be real,” Farouk promises. He reaches out, and loosens David’s collar slightly, his fingers brushing against David’s bare skin. “Come with me.”

David can’t help feeling skeptical. Why should he believe Farouk, when he’s never tried to be truthful in David’s life? Still, there’s a measure of curiosity he can’t ignore, so he nods. “But don’t bullshit me.”

“No bullshit,” Farouk agrees. He leads David through the halls of the palace. David looks around as they walk, out the big picture windows at the sky above. He sees the familiar stars there, and thinks about the nights he spent watching them, with his father. Was Farouk there then, too? 

Farouk takes a staircase down, and now there are no windows - just the polished dark wood walls and the soft carpet below, showing that familiar pomegranate insignia. They’re going down, down, into the depths of the ground now, and David feels dread creep up his spine.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“The dungeons,” Farouk says, calmly. He stops at a cabinet, pulls a small box out of it, and continues on. 

Now the floor under their feet is bare concrete, and, with rising panic, David sees barred metal doors around them. 

He could run. But with the collar around his neck, how far would he be able to go? How long until they captured him and tortured him? 

Before he can decide what to do, Farouk stops before an open cell door. The inside is bare and empty - a small bare metal bunk, a bright light above, and concrete floors and walls. The only furnishing is a small wooden table, with an array of items laid out on it. Knives of various sizes. A coil of rope. A riding crop. A whip. A truncheon. Many others, things David can’t even put a name to. His heart is in his throat. Is this his new home?

Farouk summons two guards, and stations them outside the door. “Do not disturb us,” he orders, and then leads the way into the cell. He sits down on the bare metal bunk, and opens the box. Inside is - another leather collar, the match of David’s. This one, too, has pomegranates etched into it, but it’s much blander than his own.

“What is this?” David asks, not daring to touch the collar.

Farouk smiles. “An opportunity,” he says, “For revenge.” He pulls the collar out, and hands it to David. “Would you help me?” he says, baring his throat. _“So_ difficult to put on behind one’s back.”

Tentatively, David takes the collar. He moves around behind Farouk, turning it over in his hands. It’s the same kind of collar he has on. Something that _looks_ like it will repress Farouk’s powers. “How do I know this will actually work on you? You’re not tricking me?”

“Put it on and prove it to yourself,” Farouk invites, holding his hands out. His voice slides deeper, something dark in it, as he adds: “Hurt me.”

The offer sends ice through David’s fingers, He curls them in his free hand, and turns the collar again in his other. It’s a tempting offer. Not entirely… terrible. Silent, he hooks the collar around Farouk’s neck, his knuckles brushing against Farouk’s warm skin. Warm, human, _vulnerable._ He pauses, frowning, and cautiously fastens it in the back.

Then he steps away, moving back around in front of him.

Farouk reaches up to run his fingers over the collar, testing the fit of it against his skin. His eyes, however, never leave David. Waiting. Ready for him to make the first move.

Slowly, and without letting Farouk leave the corner of his eye, David makes his way to the table. He picks up the rope, first, because he knows what to do with it, and returns to the bunk. “Is your collar working?”

“Yes,” Farouk says. “It is a strange sensation, is it not? As if the world around you becomes flat.” His eyes flicker to David’s collar. “Almost… unreal.”

David wants to argue that it’s when the powers are taken away that things are most real, but he keeps his mouth shut - mostly because he doesn’t entirely disagree with Farouk. It’s disorienting, not being able to read anyone’s mind. With a shake of his head, he takes Farouk’s hand, pulling it to the frame and tying his wrist down. Farouk smiles, like the cat that got the cream, and extends his other hand to be tied. David is happy to oblige. Soon, he has that wrist tied over the other, the rope wound tightly so that Farouk can’t escape.

He returns to the table again. This time, he picks up the knife. Something else familiar for him to hold while he gets used to the fact that Farouk is _letting_ him do this. “You really _want_ me to hurt you?”

“Would it really bother you if I didn’t?” Farouk’s eyes are on the knife. David wonders if he’s afraid. “I have always been a hedonist, my dear. What I crave - more than anything - is _sensation._ The line between pleasure and pain is… a very thin one.”

David’s about to call him on some sort of bluff, but he reconsiders. “Guess I’ll figure out whether or not you’re telling the truth soon.”

He settles himself next to Farouk, placing the knife, blade flat, on Farouk’s forearm. He’s holding it so that he can easily jam it straight into his arm if anything goes wrong. He’s still not letting his guard down. “I could kill you right now.”

“I know,” Farouk says. “But then the game would be over. And I think you want that as little as I do.” He blinks lazily back at David - but David can feel Farouk’s pulse pounding underneath his fingers, and knows he’s not as calm as he makes out. He’s always been a good liar.

Excitement stirs in David’s chest. He lifts the knife, bringing it to Farouk’s throat. His other hand rests on Farouk’s wrist, fingers pressing against the pulse. “You _think._ You don’t know, right now.” Farouk can’t read his mind anymore, and it’s almost like they’re equals again.

Farouk catches his breath. “I don’t know,” he admits. David sees his own excitement reflected back in Farouk’s eyes, along with fear. 

David presses on, the same way he presses the edge of the blade against Farouk’s skin. “I could slit your throat, leave you here, and find Syd. Leave with her.” There’s a part of him that wants to do it. There’s another part telling him he should think it through first. But he’s too _present_ to listen. “Right now.”

Farouk laughs, softly. _“She_ still has her powers. Kill me… and she will get her revenge. I told you. If you can convince her to leave with you, I won’t stop you. The thing standing in the way of the two of you leaving together isn’t me - it’s _her.”_

That wasn’t the reaction he had wanted. Scowling, David breaks skin, drawing a thin bead of blood across the edge. It’s satisfying, seeing Farouk bleed because of him. Again. “She knows what’s right a hell of a lot better than you do.”

Farouk sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Does she?” he asks. “That’s what I found, after you left us. She understands. She sees the world as I do.”

“You _made_ her see the world that way,” David hisses through his teeth. He trails the knife across Farouk’s neck. More blood. “That’s why! That’s what this whole thing is about.”

“No,” Farouk says, chuckling softly. His hands curl into fists, tight against the ropes holding him down. “No. You’ll never win her heart… if you don’t _understand_ her.” He draws a breath, and shuts his eyes. “You think she is a flower. But in fact, she’s a blade.”

“A blade pointed in the _wrong direction.”_ David draws another line down Farouk’s neck and pulls the knife back. By now, the blood is trailing down his skin and seeping into the collar of his shirt “You’re wrong. You’ve always been wrong.”

“All you have to do is open your eyes,” Farouk says, passive under David’s hands, “And see us.”

“I can see just fine.” He’s beginning to feel restless against Farouk’s insistence, and, impatient, he tugs him nearer by the collar, slicing through the fabric until he has Farouk’s shoulder exposed. He runs the blade from his neck to the top of his shoulder, deeper this time. “I don’t _need_ to listen to you.”

Farouk makes a soft noise of pain as the knife digs into his flesh. “No - that’s right - you don’t. Not now. You could do… _anything_ to me.” 

“Anything _I_ want.” And then, abruptly, David sets the knife down, standing and heading to the table. He finds a small cloth and grabs the whip off the table before making his way back to Farouk’s side. Farouk’s eyes flicker to the whip, and David thinks he sees surprise there, maybe even nervousness. 

He makes quick work of stuffing the cloth in Farouk’s mouth. “I’ve only ever seen people crack whips. I’ve never done it myself.” And now is as good a time as any to learn.

Farouk stiffens, and lifts his chin, meeting David’s eyes. His gaze is a challenge. 

“All right. Fine.” David stands again and moves back. He lets the whip fall to the floor. It’s not a very long whip: the tip just reaches the ground. He pulls it up, throwing it behind his back and watching Farouk closely. “I’ll try not to aim for anything too vital.” A small smirk tugs at his lip. “Even though I’m not practiced.”

It’s both amusing and deeply satisfying to watch Farouk shift so that his legs are closer together. 

David turns away, lifting the whip. He has to practice. He tosses his wrist once. Nothing. The next few times yield the same result. The fifth time, he hears something of a crack. That’s close enough for him, so he turns back toward Farouk, taking a step back and eyeing him. He’s still sitting with his legs together, and that makes David smirk.

He cracks the whip at Farouk, aiming for his upper arm. Farouk’s whole body jerks as the whip strikes him, and he makes a wordless noise of pain - or is it pleasure? David doesn’t know, and he wants to find out - so he leans back, lashing out at Farouk’s exposed shoulder now. It strikes with a satisfying snap, and, seconds later, Farouk’s skin starts to turn red. Farouk jerks again, and there’s blood on the whip now, from the cuts David left a moment ago. 

Farouk looks up at David, his eyes sharp, and carrying a clear message: _Is that all you’ve got?_

David shakes his head, giving Farouk a look, before he steps closer. He cracks the whip again, creating a small gash in Farouk’s shirt. And then, again, at the same spot, until the fabric hangs enough that he can trot over and tear more of it from Farouk’s shoulders. He tugs it down, exposing Farouk down to his stomach, and moves back again.

“Is that better?” he asks, and, without waiting for an answer, he cracks the whip at Farouk again, striking at his chest as hard as he can - hard enough to draw blood.

Farouk jerks against his bonds again, blood running down his chest and soaking into his pants. He groans through the gag, arching his neck back, and David sees that the skin under the rope has turned red with the friction. His eyes follow the trail of red down Farouk’s torso, and sees that Farouk is enjoying this, hard in his pants already, just from this. 

Overcome by a sudden shudder - how can he be _enjoying_ this? - David cracks the whip again, lower, at Farouk’s stomach. It draws another line. Less blood, but still red. “Why?!” he demands. Another lash, at Farouk’s side.

Farouk can’t answer. Instead he just draws in a deep breath, bracing himself against the pain, and smiles at David, as smug as ever.

Clenching his teeth, David moves to the edge of the bunk where Farouk’s hands are tied. He tosses the whip down and unties him. He drops the rope and pulls Farouk’s hands down, tugging him down onto his front and, before Farouk can push himself back up, slips off to tie his wrists against the frame beneath them. He snatches up the knife again, sliding to sit at the small of Farouk’s back before yanking the gag out. “No, really - _why?_ It’s supposed to _hurt.”_

Farouk laughs, softly. “You know why. It _does_ hurt. That is the point, no? It lights up the nerves and reminds you that you are alive. You know this. Tell me you’re not enjoying this.” He smiles. “Tell me you wouldn’t be enjoying this if you were the one tied down, and she were the one standing over you.”

“I -” And then, he stumbles over his words, because as much as he wants to deny it, Farouk is right. If they switched positions, and it was Syd - “That doesn’t matter!” He presses the point of the knife into Farouk’s back. “It’s us here, not me and Syd.”

Farouk laughs again, as if he’s still the one in control. “Tell me,” he says, smiling. “Are you jealous of me - or her?”

“I’m not - that’s not -” Though it’s a simple question, it makes David’s head spin - that he could be jealous of Syd as much as he could be jealous of Farouk. That he could even be _jealous_ of Farouk when he’d won Syd out of some twisted concept of heroism. That he himself is tongue-tied over it all, even for a second.

It makes him angry.

“Neither,” he hisses, shaking the confusion from his mind. He’s clutching the knife so hard his knuckles are pale. That makes him mad too. He digs the knife into Farouk’s back, at the bottom of his shoulder blade. A short line, and then a curve. _D._ “You don’t get to ask the questions.”

A shudder runs through Farouk’s body, and he makes a choked-off sound of pain as the knife sinks into his skin. His hands are gripping the bed frame, and David thinks he’s shaking under David’s hands. “What are you doing?” Farouk asks, and his voice seems a little bit weaker, a little bit less certain.

“I’m writing,” he answers. _A._ The blood trickles from the cuts, down Farouk’s side. “Why? Are you worried?”

Farouk lets out a strained little laugh. “Isn’t that the point?” he asks. “You want me to be afraid. It _pleases_ you.”

Lip curling, David carves a line, as deep as he can pull the knife. _V._ “What pleases me is that you _hurt.”_ He pulls the knife out, and the blood flows freely, pouring thick down Farouk’s side.

Farouk is shuddering under him. _“Yes…”_ he breathes, his eyes half-shut. 

David feels something stir in his stomach. He draws in an uneven breath. “It’s supposed to _hurt,”_ he murmurs, knowing it’s hurting Farouk - knowing it’s pointless. Gritting his teeth, he carves the last letter slowly. He’s not going to give any hint that he _likes_ this, because he does. And he knows Farouk wants that. “You do know you’re _bleeding?”_

Farouk laughs again, breathlessly. “I’ve bled before,” he says, and David doesn’t think he’s talking about battles or accidents. He’s talking about _this._

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you think I keep that collar?” Farouk asks. “These tools, this room - they’re for her to use.”

“For -” _Syd._ In the back of his mind, David had known that was exactly who Farouk was talking about. That he and Syd had been here before. Used this room. _Done this._ He can’t help grimace against the sudden bitterness in his throat. “No.” He shoves the knife back into his brutally carved _‘I.’_ He’s willing to guess Syd doesn’t cut Farouk up like this. He doesn’t _want_ to do what Syd does. Doesn’t even want to believe it. “No she doesn’t.”

Farouk laughs through the pain. “Don’t you see? You could have this. Join me. Rule my empire with me, and in turn… you can rule _me.”_

“I don’t _have_ to have this!” David yanks the knife back out. “I don’t have to have _you.”_ And he wants Farouk to know that he’s serious. The knife’s already covered in blood. There’s no harm in doing one more cut. So he makes one, plunging the knife between Farouk’s shoulder blades and twisting it upwards.

Farouk’s eyes widen, a betrayal in them that makes David’s heart leap in his chest. Now, he’s turned the tables. Now, it’s Farouk’s turn to feel what it’s like to be hurt beyond repair, to be carved open and vulnerable in front of his own _worst enemy,_ without any way to defend himself. This is revenge.

Farouk opens his mouth, trying to draw breath, and makes a horrible, choking, wet noise of pain. He’s struggling now - for real, David realizes - trying to get out of the ropes, but he can’t. The collar stops him, makes him vulnerable, makes him helpless, and David realizes that he’s gone too far. He hadn’t meant to hit anything vital, but that’s exactly what’s happened.

He can feel his heart hammering in his chest. Too far. He stands there, watching Farouk as he struggles to pull himself out of his binds, choking on the words he’s trying to get out, and it’s horrifying. Horrifying, to watch death work so terribly on someone - even the man who tortured him. David thought he’d feel happiness, thought he’d feel fulfilled once he finally conquered Farouk, once he vanquished him, once he _finally_ killed him, for good.

Instead, he feels dread. Like he’s losing something he’s had for a long time, a core part of him that he shouldn’t lose. That he _can’t_ lose.

Suddenly frightened, David tugs the knife out.

Mistake. The blood seeps out now, thick and heavy, and Farouk is still struggling.

 _No._ “Farouk?” His fingers are trembling, but he drops the knife and begins to fumble with the collar, his fingers coated in Farouk’s blood. It’s slippery work, but he eventually gets it undone, pulling it from around his neck.

“David -” Farouk manages, and then a wave of force pushes David back, knocking him off the bunk and onto the ground, and Farouk is surrounded by glowing light, half-sitting, half-lying on the bunk, his hand to his chest.

The light fades. The stab wound on his back is gone, but Farouk is still covered in his own blood, leaning weakly against the wall. The ropes David used to tie him down are gone.

David pushes himself to his feet. He’s bloody too, but for an entirely different reason, and definitely not as weak as Farouk. Wiping his hands on his shirt, he makes his way to Farouk. His heart is still beating painfully, and his chest and throat are tight. He’s not sure whether or not Farouk managed to heal himself enough. “Are - are you…?”

 _“Khob,”_ Farouk says, sitting up. “I’ll live. Are you - ?” 

“No,” David says, and it’s much quieter than he intended it. “I didn’t mean to - I didn’t want you to - to almost _die_ \- I thought -” He steps closer, wiping at the blood on Farouk’s chest. The cuts are no longer open, scabbed over like they’ve been healing for a few days. He thought he’d feel good about being able to hurt Farouk. Instead, he’s upset he’d even tried it. “You’re… okay?”

“You know better than anyone how difficult it is to truly kill me,” Farouk says. He puts his hand to his chest, covering David’s hand with his own. “I let you do this. Look at me. We are the gods of our own reality.”

“But I didn’t want…” David shakes his head, looking away. “I couldn’t stop - I didn’t _control_ that. Your bleeding, you almost…” He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, but he’s trying. “I thought it would just hurt you. Not kill you. It would’ve killed you, and I…” He shuts his mouth, but he knows his thoughts are clear. _I didn’t want that._

Farouk says nothing. Instead, he stands, reaches out, and pulls David into his arms, holding him close. David presses against him, for once not caring that it’s Farouk’s arms around him. He can close his eyes and try to tell himself it’s Syd. But he knows it’s not. His eyes prickle, and he squeezes them shut now, resting the side of his head against Farouk’s. “I should be _happy.”_

Farouk rubs his hand down David’s back soothingly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. You did perfectly. I won’t let you do anything bad.” He turns his head, and presses his lips to David’s cheek, just like Syd did. “I love you.”

David doesn’t smile, but he can feel the urge tug at the corner of his lips. He can almost tell himself that this is Syd in Farouk’s body. “I…” But it’s Farouk, so he changes his answer at the last moment. “I… gave you your powers back,” he says softly. 

“You saved my life,” Farouk says, and smiles to himself. “For the second time.”

David doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He only tilts his head forward again, leans his head against Farouk’s again. It had been Farouk who had given him the power in the first place. It’s a strange thought, but not an untrue one, that he’d had power - albeit non-mutant - because of his own enemy. He shouldn’t even be in this position, but he’s here, now.

After a long moment, he speaks. “I’m done here.”

“Come back to our rooms,” Farouk says, pulling away slightly, his arms still around David. “We could both use a shower and clean clothes.”

David nods. He doesn’t attempt to pull out of Farouk’s grip. He’s not sure he can go without it right now, so he stays close to his side. They make their way out of the cell, bloodied, Farouk battered, and through the hallways. During the walk, they don’t speak. David likes it that way, and Farouk doesn’t seem eager to push it. 

They reach David’s room. When they’re inside, David rubs at his hands, picking at a bit of dried blood between his fingers. He doesn’t particularly want to shower right now. In fact, the only thing he wants to do is collapse into bed and sleep. 

Farouk knows what he wants. In an instant, both of them are in a new change of clothing - night clothing - and perfectly clean. David raises a hand and checks his nails. No blood between them.

Exhausted, they make their way to the bed, and David falls in, Farouk sitting next to him on the side of the bed. David doesn’t object to Farouk’s presence there. After what they just did - having Farouk in his bed is nothing. 

As he pulls the covers up over him and darkness overtakes his mind, he feels Farouk curling up next to him, one arm over David’s waist. And in that moment, he doesn’t mind. 

He dreams he’s in Clockworks again, standing in the hallway, staring out the window in the middle of the night. Syd stands beside him, her hand in his, their fingers laced together, skin-on-skin. Touching, like normal people do. No ribbon to keep them separated. But when he blinks and looks at the reflection on the glass, he sees Farouk standing beside Syd. He, too, is holding her hand.

And then Farouk pulls on it, guiding them to a nearby door. It opens, and the three of them slip through, into a palace of floating armour and plates and vases and elegant furniture, light and shadows tumbling through the air and mingling with each other, into a soft grey that seeps into anything it touches.

Without a word, Farouk steps in front of Syd and David both, holding his hand out. On his palm, David can see his name, carved and healed into a light scar, near his thumb. On the other side, near Farouk’s pinky, is Syd’s name.

Silent, David reaches out for Farouk’s hand.

* * *

 The morning dawns, with soft morning light streaming through the windows of his room. David is warm, wrapped in familiar arms, the room quiet except for the sound of two people breathing. He rolls over, sleepily, and finds himself face to face with Amahl Farouk. It takes him a second of panic to remember what had transpired the night before: how they had fallen into bed without a second thought, weary from the blood and unbidden terror.

He can feel his heart beating faster than normal, but he focuses on Farouk. On the way he lies there now, as asleep as any other person could be, completely clueless to the fact that David is awake. Completely vulnerable to anything that David might decide to do to him. He could kill him, right now - or, at the very least, hurt him again before he wakes up.

Last night had been enough. Very slowly, David props his cheek on a folded arm, his gaze on Farouk’s face. He’s so close, so exposed, so… _unconscious._

Nothing like a monster.

Farouk’s eyes open slowly, still half-asleep. He blinks, slowly, and says nothing, studying David’s face. If David didn’t know better, he would call Farouk’s expression ‘fond.’

The moment carries on for several seconds, and David, finally self-conscious, shuts his halfway, like that will prevent Farouk from seeing him watching, and presses his face into his arm. “You can… you can go back to sleep.”

Farouk smiles, slightly, and reaches out to pull David closer, until David’s head is resting on his shoulder, wrapped in Farouk’s arms again. Farouk tilts his head, and his lips brush across David’s forehead. “Sleep well, _joonam.”_

In the back of his mind, David is waiting for Farouk to squash him in his arms, to take over his mind, to force his muscles to rest easily against him. But nothing of the sort happens. Farouk stills, and David knows that he’s going back to sleep. Back to unconsciousness, back to defenselessness.

David shuts his eyes, resting against him - not completely easily, but enough that he can listen to the sound of Farouk’s breathing and let himself drift off.

When he wakes up again, Farouk is gone. He’s alone in his bed, his covers tucked perfectly over him, his lamp creaking faintly by his bedside. It doesn’t seem as if Farouk was ever here at all, but the memory is there, in his mind, as fresh as if they had been sharing not half a minute before. 

Syd and Farouk aren’t anywhere to be found. He knows he can’t leave, so he stays confined to the inside, wandering the halls for the entire afternoon and into the evening. Most of the rooms he’s never been in before, so he takes the time to explore them, to familiarise himself with what’s inside. Sometimes, a guard peeks in, just to check to see what he’s doing, before heading on again.

None of the rooms are as bare as the cell he and Farouk had been in last night, which he counts as a good thing. He thinks about it every so often: the blood, the crack of the whip, Farouk almost dying and the sudden terror that had seized him when he’d realized what he’d done. Maybe Farouk’s already told Syd about it. Maybe they’ll plan something against him now that they know David is still capable of killing Farouk.

Except that he wasn’t.

The two aren’t back by dinner, so David eats by himself in his room. He doesn’t come back out for the rest of the evening.

There’s a knock on his door. He gets up to open it, and there’s Syd, standing in the hallway. She’s clad in a pale orange suit, paired with her familiar black gloves, and a pair of orange-lensed, round sunglasses. As he stares at her, she takes the sunglasses off and puts them in her suit pocket. 

“I thought I should check in on you. You know, since we were away all day.. Are you - are you doing - all right?” 

“Yeah,” David says. “Yeah, I’m okay. I looked around… a little bit. A few hours. I, uh… I woke up late anyways, so I really didn’t notice…” Suddenly realizing he’s standing in the way of the door, he takes several steps back. “You want to come in? If you want, I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Syd offers him a little smile, and comes in. She looks around at the room, cast in the patterns of the star-map lamp. It occurs to David that she’s never seen that lamp before; he never got to take her home with him.

“Oh, um…” He gestures to his lamp, stepping over to it. “This is mine. It… was, when I was little, but it - I guess Farouk found it and brought it here. To make me feel more at home.” He watches the wall. The stars swing past. It doesn’t feel like home to him in the same way, but the stars and the creaking are familiar. He looks back at her. “How was your day? Was it… good?”

“Yeah,” Syd says, and then, after a moment, she shrugs. “My heart wasn’t in it. I missed you.”

He tilts his head. She’s not sad, but her look and her words still tug at him. “Oh… I was - I was okay. The guards were nice. They left me alone, for the most part, so… I got to be by myself for a while.” He pauses. “I missed you too.”

“Maybe we should bring you along next time,” Syd says, with a small smile. 

“No, I don’t think so.” He returns the smile, but it’s faint. “I wouldn’t like it. And neither would… you know.” He taps the side of his head. “I usually follow what they think. That’s what I heard.”

Syd frowns. “Who told you that?” she asks. 

“Uh…” He doesn’t answer for a moment, debating on whether or not to tell her about his first, failed attempt at gaining control of his mind, back before he had known what was happening. “Way before I met you, or before I even knew what I had was schizophrenia - or, that’s what I thought, before, for years, you know - I had this doctor. I think he was my first doctor. It was before I knew what they were supposed to be like. I was young, like, a teenager, and I went to him, and… he was okay. He was fine. I told him I heard voices, that I saw things that weren’t there, and he listened.” Not better than Amy, but Amy wasn’t a doctor, and their parents had wanted him to go to a doctor. “And he gave me meds, like they usually do, but… they didn’t help. And he told me to listen to the voices, instead of… I don’t know, not paying attention when they got bad. Which was already hard, but… it wasn’t good, because - because I listened to him, for a while. He was a doctor, he was supposed to know these things.” He chews at his lip. “How was I supposed to know, right? But it got bad, so… I got out of it, eventually.” 

“But the voices weren’t yours,” Syd says, quietly. “They were his. Right?”

David frowns. “He was part of it. But not all of them. I don’t think. I think some of them had to be mine, too. Like… Dvd and Divad, except not them, all the time. It’s - it’s confusing. I’m not sure. They just weren’t nice.”

“I had a doctor like that,” Syd says. “Or - the opposite. He thought there was something wrong with me.” She crosses her arms around herself. “That I could just - decide to touch people. Like I was just being stubborn, or something. I couldn’t tell him.”

“Human doctors wouldn’t understand.” He gives Syd a joking smile. It doesn’t last long. “Kind of like that. Except he knew what I had, but he didn’t… care. I’d tell him things, but he’d want to go in a different direction because he thought that was better. Or he’d… say things that upset me, and then I’d tell him that upset me, and he’d get me to believe I shouldn’t be. That I was overreacting because I didn’t get what he was saying, or that my brain wasn’t registering it because of what I had, except I did get it.”

Syd gives that some thought. “Sounds like one of my mom’s boyfriends.”

David presses his lips together, glad to be off the topic for a moment. “Was he bad too?”

“To my mom, yeah. He mostly left me alone. I think I gave him the creeps.”

That makes David laugh, softly. He looks down. “I’m sure you did. Sorry about your mom, though. That’s… people like that…” He shakes his head. “At least we survived.”

“What was his name?” Syd asks. “The doctor, I mean.”

It takes David a few seconds to remember. “Uh, Doctor Reid. Todd Reid.”

“Huh,” Syd says, thoughtfully.

Before David can ask what that means or why she’d asked, the door to Syd’s bedroom opens, and Farouk enters. He tilts his head in greeting. _“Bonsoir, mes amours.”_

David wonders how long he’s been there, and if he’d overheard anything they had said. Whatever had transpired between them last night seems to have been washed away completely, but he can’t help glancing toward Syd, in some nervous instinct to check if she knows. 

Syd’s face is unreadable. “Hey, Amahl,” she says, cheerfully enough. “Can’t sleep?”

Farouk glances at David. “Among other things. I thought we might take another walk tonight.”

David blinks. He looks between them. “… The three of us?”

“Of course,” Farouk says, with a smile.

David looks at Syd again. She’s watching him, her gaze pensive, but not discouraging, so he nods. He’s not tired yet, and it’s better to walk than to stay locked up in this room until he is. “Okay.”

Farouk offers David his hand. David considers taking it, but doesn’t. After a moment, Syd does. David looks away, and gets up. The three of them file out of his room and down the hallways of the palace. David’s eyes are drawn back to Syd, hanging off Farouk’s arm. He hates to see her this way.

He tries not to think about the walk back to his room last night, the way he, too, had been hanging off of Syd’s arm. Does she know?

This time, they’re not going down into the depths, but up stairs into the towers. 

Farouk leads the way up multiple staircases, until all three of them are slightly out of breath, and stops before a big set of double doors. “I had this built for you,” he says to David, pulling out a set of keys and unlocking them. “For when you came here.”

Syd moves to David’s side, just short of the doors. “Come on,” she says, when he doesn’t immediately move to open them.

He frowns, unsure what Farouk would have had _built_ for him. “What do you mean, for _when_ I came here?” It doesn’t bother him, but the choice of words intrigues him.

“You were always part of the picture.” Farouk opens the doors to reveal - 

The stars.

David looks up through the glass roof to the night sky above. The constellations are dimmer than they used to be, out in the countryside, but they’re still the same, and their positions are mirrored by the tiled floor below, which traces out a massive star map. In the center, there is a telescope; by the walls, there are couches and chairs, blending discreetly into the walls.

“Welcome to _l'observatoire,”_ Farouk says, softly.

David steps into the room. He’s never been in an observatory like this before. He remembers his father taking him out when he was a child, bringing him up into some of the towers, bundled in warm coats and gloves, the cold air biting at their skin. Those were all different. They didn’t have maps on the floors or ceiling made of glass to keep out the weather or couches lining the edges. It’s the largest - the most _open_ \- observatory David’s ever been in.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, moving nearer to the telescope. He stops a few feet away, turning to look back at Farouk and Syd. “You made - you had this made for…?”

“For you,” Farouk repeats. Syd is watching the two of them with sharp eyes. 

David looks around the room again. The moon is bright enough that it illuminates most everything in a low white outline. Several small lights line the walls, all of them dim to keep the atmosphere of the room. It’s a beautiful sight, even more beautiful than the rest of the mansion. He doesn’t even mind how it looks so rich.

He moves to the telescope again. “Is this… can I use this?”

 _“Natürlich,”_ Farouk says, and then adds, with a slight smirk, “What’s mine is yours.”

Syd casts a look at Farouk. “It’s yours. Not his.” 

Carefully, David moves the telescope. It’s heavy, but David treats it as though one wrong touch could break it - which is probably true. He angles it toward a tiny, distant cluster of stars, and leans over to look into it. He has to adjust it so that he can finally see the stars he’s looking at: one, two, three gleaming points. It’s the first time he’s looked at the stars since before any of this happened. 

He pulls back, looking at the two. He knows Farouk’s seen the stars, trapped in his head. “Syd, have you - did you want to look? I think this is the, uh… Pleiades cluster.”

Syd comes to peer through the telescope. “My mother used to have a book of the constellations,” she comments, staring through the lens. “I used to read it… but you could barely see the stars outside, in the city. It’s easier now. There’s less light in the world…”

David raises his brows, taking a step back to look down at the star map beneath their feet. He’s never going to get used to Syd saying things like that. “Good for… looking at stars.”

“Among other things,” Farouk says, chuckling softly. He steps up to look through the telescope himself, adjusts it, and looks in. “Cassiopeia,” he comments, and then pauses, laughs at himself. “You know, that wasn’t what I called it when I was a child. But now I know these words, the constellations, the names of the stars, better in English than in my native tongue.”

“Because of me.” David feels a smile tug at his lips, and he’s quick to tamp it back down before Farouk can catch a glimpse of it. He turns away, moving out onto the open floor and walking along the star map. To Syd, he says: “I used to think they talked to me. The stars.”

“They did,” Farouk says, quietly. _“I_ did.” 

David watches him out of the corner of his eye. His toes travel along a constellation line in front of him. “I remember what they used to say to me.”

“What did they say?” Syd asks. 

“They said… nice things. Not like other times. Not like what I was telling you about. But the -” He looks at Farouk. “The stars always told me they were proud of me.” He frowns faintly, looking back up at the sky.

“I remember watching the stars with you,” Farouk says. His voice is soft, and he’s looking out at the stars. “In those moments, I forgot what I had set out to do to you. I forgot that we were enemies.”

David stands where he is and looks around the room again, wondering if this room, in a way, can somehow become a safe place, where he won’t feel so powerless. He doesn’t need his powers here. He could stay here for the rest of his life and never need his powers again. The decision wouldn’t be difficult. Returning to a part of his life - a life that feels so far away now, so foreign - that brought him so much comfort would be simple, even if Farouk was the one who orchestrated the voices.

“It’s still not like how it used to be,” he says. 

“It could be,” Farouk says. 

“No, it couldn’t be.” David turns away, walking around the telescope. It’s a nice telescope, and the observatory is the grandest he’s ever seen, but it doesn’t strike the same. It’s not his childhood, no matter how much he wants it to be. “I didn’t spend my life in observatories.”

Syd speaks. Her voice is clear and commanding. “Take us,” she says to Farouk, “Outside.”

Farouk looks between Syd and David, and raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t argue. Instead, he offers them each a hand. Syd slips a gloved hand into his without a second thought. She watched David expectantly, and, after a moment, he takes Farouk’s other hand.

The observatory vanishes around them, and is replaced by a mountaintop, the stars stretching above them. David doesn’t recognize where they are, but it’s quiet - almost eerily quiet, thought not enough that he feels uneasy. The air is clear and still, and grass tickles his feet.

 _“Bienvenue,”_ Farouk says, _“en France.”_

A summer wind blows through, ruffling Syd’s short hair, and she frowns. “Blankets,” she orders Farouk.

Farouk obeys without thinking twice, and David is suddenly, irresistibly reminded of the collar in the dungeons. Blankets are produced from thin air, and Farouk spreads one out on the ground, and wraps another, larger one around Syd, as if she’s in a cocoon, keeping one for himself. She looks completely comfortable wrapped in her blanket, and David is torn between envy and fondness.

Ignoring it, he makes his way to the blanket on the ground, settling down on one side and crossing his legs. It feels better to be outside, instead of the shielded observatory. More real. “Why are we in France?”

Syd shrugs, sitting down alongside David. She leans up against him - the blanket protecting her from any unplanned touches. It reminds David of the way they used to be in the Astral Plane, all those years ago, when they had been free to find their comfort in each other to their heart's content. “He likes it here.”

“France is the home of the arts - in Europe, at least,” Farouk says, sitting down opposite Syd, next to David. He drapes the blanket over himself and his captive, so that David is in between the two conquerors.

“You said you didn’t grow up in an observatory,” Syd says, quietly. “You grew up here. Outside, under the stars. So I took you there.”

“I didn’t,” David says, and he’s about to say something more about how he’d never grown up in France, either - he’s sure he’s never been here in his life - but he decides against it, instead focusing on how strangely comfortable he feels between them. Farouk on one side, Syd on the other. The blanket is already warm. It’s cozy. It’s _weird._

“Weird is good,” Farouk says. “Isn’t that what she told you?”

“I’m right here,” Syd points out, but she doesn’t seem too bothered by it. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” David says it before he can think twice. It’s toward Syd, but he can’t stop himself from glancing at Farouk, either - to check if there’s any hint of jealousy on his expression. There isn’t. He seems as unbothered as Syd. David moves a little closer to her, pulling his legs up and wrapping an arm around them. “It’s better this way.”

“Together,” Syd says, softly. “Yeah, it is."

David thinks about how he met Syd, all those years ago, telling the Clockworks therapist that her ideal world was a deserted island. Maybe that’s changed. Maybe she doesn’t feel that way anymore. “And better than the observatory.”

Syd shrugs. “It’s still there if you need it.” She’s looking up at the stars, her gaze tracing the Milky Way across the sky.

“Next time you’re both out for the entire day, maybe I’ll go look at it again.” He smiles faintly, following her gaze. “It’s nice. Just not - I like it out here.”

“There’s more distance out here,” Syd says. “More… space to think.”

“Yeah. I like that. More space to think.” More room for their thoughts to drift: a consequence of his aversion toward crowds and their voices. Even after he’d learned to control his telepathy, he had preferred to stay away from large crowds. “I always looked forward to looking at the stars with my dad, when I was little. No one around for me to… accidentally read their minds.”

“I would have missed them,” Farouk says, quietly. “When I was young. I preferred the city. But age changes us all, does it not?”

“Age and experience.” David adjusts the blanket around himself. “And other people.”

Syd shook her head. “I never liked the thought of that.”

“Of other people changing us?” David lifts a shoulder. “It’s true, isn’t it? For all three of us. Farouk got into my head when I was a baby, and… now we’re here.” He nods out to the French countryside. 

Syd frowns. “That’s not other people. That’s - us.” 

“Other people, outside of… us. The individual.” He gestures between the three of them. “If I hadn’t met either of you, or - or _both_ of you - I wouldn’t be here. And Farouk wouldn’t be here, and _you_ wouldn’t be here.”

“A terrible thought,” Farouk says, lightly. He’s looking up at the stars, and David can almost trace the path of his eyes across the constellations, because it’s the way he used to look, all those years ago in the fields. How much, David wonders, has Farouk stolen from him?

And how much of himself has he left behind in David?

“Because you’d be _dead,”_ Syd points out to Farouk. 

“I don’t believe in this,” Farouk says, immediately, although whether he means Syd’s claim or the idea of death itself isn’t clear. “A man like me is not so easily killed. I would have found a way.” His eyes drift down from the stars to look at David and Syd. “But this, I think, is the better way.”

David doesn’t necessarily disagree, but something in him still wants him to argue against it. He draws in a breath, letting it out in a sigh, and looks up at the sky again. “I think it’s better than being locked up in the mansion all the time.”

“Once you agree to stay,” Farouk says, leaning against David, “I’ll remove the collar. You will go where you please.”

“Yeah, you’re not getting me to stay so willingly just because of some stars.” He scoffs, but a part of him wonders how it would be like, if he were to stay and live like this: no stress, no responsibilities, and no one to get in the way. It would be nice.

Wanting a distraction, he seeks out Virgo and its three clear star-marked lines. When he was a child, his father used to tell him the tales of all the constellations they came across. David can’t remember most of them, but he remembers this one. “The stars have a lot of different stories,” he says. Kind of like timelines, and kind of like their branches. “Not all of them end the same.”

“The stars are always the same,” Farouk comments. “But humans project their own views onto them.” He glances over at David. 

“And sometimes, they’re wrong.”

“What are they?” Syd asks, so suddenly that David thinks she’s trying to distract him from getting into another argument with Farouk. He glances toward her and finds nothing but curiosity. “The stories.”

He focuses instead on the stars, again picking out Virgo, the constellation, and Spica at the bottom. “Uh, well… there’s one. Up there, that bright point?” He points up toward Spica. “And then that whole constellation, how it looks like a… like a body? That one’s Virgo. It’s always linked to Persephone, who… she was Zeus’ daughter and also Demeter, who was - she was the of agriculture. You know, plants and farmlands and that stuff. Well, one day, Persephone was out gathering, I don’t know, flowers, and Hades, God of the Underworld, saw her. And he decided he was going to take her back to the Underworld. While she was plucking her flowers, the ground opened up beneath her feet and she fell onto Hades’ chariot, and he whisked her off to the Underworld to make her his wife and his queen. No one witnessed it but Zeus, but he decided he wasn’t going to say anything about it. Demeter traveled the entire earth trying to find her, and eventually learned that Hades had taken her. She tried to persuade him to let her go, but he didn’t, so she grieved and swore she wouldn’t let anything grow until he gave her back. Zeus noticed, and he finally told Demeter that he would return Persephone to her, as long as Persephone hadn’t eaten anything from the Underworld. Hades knew he had to obey Zeus, but before Persephone left, Hades put a pomegranate seed into her mouth, knowing that it obliged her to stay in the Underworld with him. When Zeus found out, he proposed a compromise: for one-third of every year, Persephone would stay with Demeter. But she had to return after that, and spend the remaining part of the year with Hades.” He lets out a breath. “The time she spends below ground was made to explain the seasons.”

“Mmm, that’s not the version I heard,” Farouk says, smiling slightly. “I had always heard that Persephone loved Hades.”

David glances over to Syd. “Maybe he just made her love him.”

Syd raises her eyebrows. “What makes you think _I’m_ Persephone?”

David feels himself blush, despite himself, and tugs the blanket tighter around him. “It’s - it’s just a story. Not real.”

Farouk chuckles. “Reality,” he reminds David, sliding an arm around David’s shoulders, “Is a choice.” His body is warm against David’s, in the cold night air. David feels… comfortable. 

“I read somewhere that snakes hypnotize their prey,” David comments, leaning into Farouk’s touch. “Before they strike.”

“That’s a myth,” Syd says.

“Reality is a choice,” David says, smirking slightly. 

Farouk laughs. “You’re learning, my dear,” he says. ‘You’re learning.”

David lets out a breath through his nose. He moves his hand to rest at Syd’s thigh, touching the blanket between them. For once, he doesn’t feel worried. Not even now, without his powers. “You’re both choosing your realities. You created this world.”

Farouk laughs, softly, pleased with himself, and Syd lets her head rest against David’s blanketed shoulder. “You can, too,” Farouk says.

David shakes his head and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have an answer to that. There’s comfortable silence for a few moments. Syd and Farouk are both leaning on him, and he’s warm under his blanket, under the stars. David runs his hand down Syd’s blanketed leg, and she lets out a sleepy noise, and it dawns on him that she’s asleep.

 _“Une longue journée,”_ Farouk comments, lightly. 

Even though David doesn’t understand, he can pick up enough words to assume the meaning. “Why do you keep doing that?” he asks. “The languages?”

“Language gives thought its flavor,” Farouk says. “Without it, telepathic communication becomes so - pure. Sterile. And as with any kind of flavor…” Farouk looks over at him, his eyes suggestive. “I prefer variety.”

David tilts his head, but he doesn’t break his gaze from Farouk. “There’s no telepathic communication going on now,” he says. “I can’t read your mind to know what you’re saying.”

“No,” Farouk agrees. “But still I enjoy it. The flavor of it, the French language - it’s beautiful.”

“But you speak other languages, too.” At least, David’s pretty sure he’s heard Farouk speak in something other than French. 

“German,” Farouk says, “And my native language, Persian.” He smiles in the darkness. “Variety.”

“That’s a lot.” David almost feels jealous. School only ever taught them a few words. He finally looks away, down at the edge of the blanket. “Is it easier for you to speak in one of those languages?”

Farouk thinks about that. “Each one has its own purpose. Farsi is the artist, the poet, the philosopher. French is the jester. German is the warrior. And English is - the present, the foundation.”

It’s unlike anything David has ever heard before, but he vaguely remembers Farouk speaking in German, before their first fight in the Astral Plane. “Oh.” Strange and different, but not bad. Better and meaningful. “You use languages based on… how the conversation feels?”

“Languages are for communication. That is how I use them.” Farouk turns to look at David, their faces very close. “Would you like to learn?” he asks.

“Languages?” David asks, distracted, for a moment, by how close Farouk is. He blinks, looking away. “Would you teach me?”

“Mmm. I’ve never taught anyone before. It could be a new experience for both of us,” Farouk says. “After all, I learned your language. Why shouldn’t you learn mine?”

David opens his mouth, then shuts it again, before he can say something stupid about how he doesn’t _need_ to learn Farouk’s language. His _languages._ Even he knows it’s not something he should say. “You _want_ to teach me?”

Farouk laughs, softly. “Does that surprise you? I told you.” His arm tightens around David’s shoulders. “I am in love with you.”

David looks sharply at Farouk, searching his face for the amusement that always shows up in his expression when he says something he doesn’t quite mean. It’s not there. It’s not there, and David is suddenly aware of just how real this moment is. Farouk should be telling him how much he wants _his_ love, not how much love he has for him. He’s never said anything about being in love with him before.

David believes it.

Farouk smiles. “Why did you think I brought you here? To our palace - as a guest?”

“Because you said - to change Syd’s mind,” David stutters. He glances up at the sky, as though they might calm his heart, which has started to beat harder. “I came here to change Syd’s mind.”

“That’s what you want,” Farouk says, leaning in. “Now - what do you think _I_ want?”

Now is the moment David realizes he doesn’t know what Farouk wants. He shakes his head, staring at one star in the sky whose name he can’t remember at the moment. “You want what you’ve always wanted.” He’s grasping at straws here. “Power, I - I guess.”

“I already have that. Look around you. I rule the world.” In the darkness, Farouk smiles. “No. _We_ rule the world.”

David shuts his eyes. In any other scenario where he had his powers, he would be feeling the land, the people living around them, just to remind himself that he - that he and Farouk and Syd - weren’t the only people in the world. But he can’t do that now. It’s only him and Farouk and Syd here, now. “But you want power over everything. And - you just didn't have power over me. And now you do.”

Farouk chuckles. “I’ve always had power over you. No matter how much you resent it… you’re mine. _Ours.”_

“I’m not anyone’s,” David mutters, still thinking about the fact that Farouk is in love with him. “Except mine. Having power over me and - and _having_ me are two different things.”

“Tell me,” Farouk says, softly. He’s very close to David, his breath warm in the cold night air. “Which one do you think I want?”

David doesn’t have to think about that one. “Both.” 

Farouk smiles. “That is the word of the day, isn’t it? Both. I want,” he enunciates, looking from David to Syd and back, _“Both.”_

David looks toward Syd. She’s still sleeping snugly against him, still breathing slowly, still curled comfortably at his side - as safe as can be. Even with Farouk around. He frowns, looking back at Farouk. “How did you get her to trust you?”

“The same way I will with you,” Farouk says, easily. “By making her understand that we want the same thing.”

“She wanted this? To rule the world?”

“She wanted to be safe.” Farouk tilts his head. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Why would she ever believe that she’d be safe with you?”

Farouk laughs. “Safety doesn’t come from me. It comes from _power._ That is the only thing it comes from.”

David shakes his head again and looks off over the land below them. They’re high up. Closer to the stars than they were in the observatory. “It also comes from who you’re with. And you, you’re… dangerous. Not safe.”

“So are you,” Farouk says. “You know that, don’t you?” It doesn’t stop him from lounging comfortably against David’s side. “And so is she. We all are, we gods, we mutants.”

“You hurt me,” David says, quietly. In spite of his words, he doesn’t pull away. “How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“You don’t trust me,” Farouk says, calmly. He turns, and smiles slightly at David. “But what about her? Do you trust her to protect you from me?”

“Of course I trust her.” It’s the natural answer, what David _knows_ to be true. “She… wants what’s best for me.”

“There is your answer, then,” Farouk says. “She will protect you. You’ll have her - and me. You want that, don’t you? I saw you, last night. You enjoyed yourself.” He leans in closer. “You want both of us.”

It takes David a moment to remember what had happened in the cell the night before. It feels like it’s been weeks since it happened. “How would you -” And then, another thought: last night’s dream, of Syd and Farouk, of holding hands with the both of them. “That didn’t - that doesn’t mean I _want_ you.”

“Doesn’t it?” Farouk says, looking up at the stars. “How could you not? We were intertwined for so long. I was with you, _inside_ you, the moment you first saw her. We are part of each other, no matter how eager you are to deny it. Don’t you feel that? This longing, this craving, this desire not to be alone in your head?”

“But I’m not alone in my head,” David points out. “I have… and they talk to me. Sometimes.” But Farouk is right, in a way. Something’s felt off in David’s head ever since they got Farouk out. “If this is some plot to make me let you back into my head, it won’t work.”

“No,” Farouk says, sharply, his body tensing against David’s. “No. You have no idea what I’ve done to get back here, to find my body, to be -” He cuts himself off, and is silent for a moment. “I don’t need that,” he says, simply. “But you and I - why shouldn’t we be together? You, and I, and her. The three of us, ruling the world together, kings and queens. As the gods we were meant to be. Think of it.”

David _does_ think. He thinks of how he feels, bundled up between the two of them. One on side, Farouk, who had used him to stay alive for three decades. A reason for him to run. One the other side, Syd, fast asleep. A reason for him to stay, to not move at all. Odd, but comfortable. Sitting here now feels almost… normal. As though they’ve been doing this every day of their lives. As though they’re the only ones in this world that matter. And for a moment, David wonders if this is what it’s like, to have so much power and influence that nothing else could ever rival him. _Them._ “What good is it,” he murmurs, quietly, “if I’m here?”

“Because she loves you,” Farouk says, softly. “Because I love you. Don’t you see?”

“Do you know what love is?” David turns to look at him.

“I do,” Farouk says, and David wonders if he’s trying to convince himself - or if it’s true. “I felt it. When I was you.”

“Maybe you felt it, but… but do you, still?” David isn’t sure what he wants from Farouk’s answer. Maybe for it to be true. “Do you feel the same thing I felt?”

Farouk reaches out into David’s mind, brushing his thoughts, inviting David in again. David notices this time that Farouk is too eager - desperate, almost, to be in David’s mind, and vice versa. 

Inside Farouk’s mind, he sees - 

Farouk isn’t certain if this is love, if that’s something he can feel. More than that - he’s not certain what he feels is his own, or just an echo, something borrowed from David, burned into his mind from decades of living behind David’s eyes. _How can I be myself after so long, how can I let go, why would I_ **_want_ ** _to let go when it felt so good to be so close so close so close he’s mine she’s mine_ **_I’m his -_ **

Farouk pulls back, lessening the contact, and his eyes slide away from David’s. David can sense a hint of humiliation in his mind - as if David had seen more than Farouk had wanted him to. 

David closes his eyes. He can still feel Farouk’s mind against his, his presence lingering against his own, brushing together, and tries to feel for those thoughts again. But Farouk’s mind is closed now, shielding from him what he had accidentally exposed, and David doesn’t have the power to dig for it himself.

_I’m his._

He opens his eyes again. “Sometimes,” he says, before he can think twice, “I used to hate when people suggested they kill you. Not because I didn’t want you dead - but because I wanted to be the one to do it. To kill you. I didn’t want anyone else to get to you first. I thought… it wasn’t fair. It wouldn’t be fair if someone else got to you first. It had to be me.”

Farouk should be angry. He isn’t. “Yes,” he says. “You understand now. I killed Walter for daring to threaten you.” _I’m the only one allowed to threaten you._ Farouk doesn’t say it, nor does it leak through their telepathic connection - but David hears it anyway, understands the meaning behind his words.

It’s strange, to think that the same man who hurt him would also stop anyone else from hurting him. He doesn’t like it. And yet, he understands it, the way he never would if Farouk hadn’t been in his mind with him. “I would’ve thought you did it to keep yourself alive.”

Farouk shrugs. “That, too.” He lets that rest in silence for a moment. 

David knows, even now, he’d still get mad if anyone said they were going to kill Farouk. He doesn’t know what that means, when he’s sitting here, not trying to kill Farouk.

At his side, Syd stirs. She draws in a long breath, blinking her eyes open and lifting her head slightly. “What are you two talking about?” Her voice still sounds laced with sleep.

“We’re not fighting,” David says, resisting the urge to reach up and run his fingers through her hair. He doesn’t think telling her about their conversation is good. Not right now. “Just talking about you two ruling the world. Same old stuff.”

“Sounds like fighting to me,” Syd says, sleepily. She rubs her neck. “I’m tired. Let’s go home.”

David frowns at that. _Home._ Their mansion, home. 

“All right,” Farouk says, getting to his feet. He offers Syd a gloved hand, and helps her to her feet.

Without a word, David stands. He takes a step away from them to stretch, then distracts himself with picking up the blanket on the ground.

The world around them melts away, and they’re back at the mansion, in the hallway outside their two rooms. “Goodnight, David,” Syd says, stepping away reluctantly. She hesitates, and for a moment, David thinks she’s going to follow him, ask to stay in his room instead tonight. But then she turns and she’s gone, along with Farouk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We went through about four versions of the story David tells Syd & Amahl, before deciding this one was more thematically relevant. We'd love to hear what you think of the finished product!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amahl and Syd throw a party to show off their newest acquisition, and David learns a new way to enjoy Syd's powers.

This is the fanciest place David’s ever been to. He’s used to parties in modest apartments, the smell of weed and cigarette smoking wafting in parlors, trash littering the floors, stained walls on all four sides, music cranked just a little too high, lights just a little too dim, everything just a little too underpriced and overused, his mind just a little too muddled.

But this is… different. They’re not at the mansion, but some other, less-decorated place. Still a mansion, from what he’d seen so far of the inside when they had come in. The windows are tall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling in the room they’re currently in. The floor stretches wide and solid under their shoes. Some of the walls are white, and others are orange, but none of it looks bad. It’s a far cry different from Farouk’s style - that much he knows after spending the week at the other mansion.

The guests have startled to trickle in. David can hear them in the halls, chatting off in the main chamber, but he’s busy being dressed by Syd and Farouk, in a little room down the hallway.

“Lift your arms,” Syd orders, and David does. She tugs the elegant red jacket over his arms. It’s a practiced motion - David notes with a hint of guilt that she’s gotten very used to relying on her prosthetic arm. 

Farouk steps up and wraps a piece of dark fabric around David’s neck; David tenses, but he only begins to fasten the tie at David’s throat.

“What’s this?” David asks, lifting his chin just slightly. “Something to hide the collar around my neck? So they won’t get suspicious?” He doesn’t say it too seriously, but he’s not sure that’s not exactly what it is.

Farouk chuckles, dark and soft. “Would you prefer to show it off?” His hands pause in their work. “Let them all know you belong to us?”

“No.” David lifts his chin a little higher, looking up at the ceiling. The lights are minimalistic too: only little square-shaped bulbs that poked from the ceiling and lit the room in all directions. “But I figured they’d already know that much.”

Syd and Farouk laugh together. “I suppose they do,” Farouk says, finishing with David’s tie. He runs a hand down the length of the tie, flattening it against David’s chest. Syd tucks the jacket shut, her hands - both the flesh one and the metal one - taking the place of Farouk’s, and buttons it. David shuts his eyes, feeling put upon by their fussing - but also, kind of, secretly enjoying it. It’s  _ nice  _ to have the two of them focused on him, in a weird way. It’s nice to feel like anyone cares enough now to want to make him look nice.

He opens his eyes when they step away, looking down at the suit. It looks strange on him. He takes a step back and twists, testing the material. It  _ feels _ strange on him, too. The sleeves are heavy and the fabric isn’t as flexible as he’s used to. It’s been years since he’s worn anything this proper, and right now, he feels like he’s being forced not to move the way he likes. Like his movement is being constrained. “This feels weird.”

Syd is wearing a dramatic gown that spills down to the ground, with a smoother orange fabric covering her right half, exposing a lacy black bodice and a ruffled orange petticoat on the left side. A black border on her skirt separates the smooth fabric from the ruffled underskirt, and where it comes up to meet her bodice, it’s topped with two orange-and-black fabric roses. The roses return at the top of the bodice, just under her right shoulder. She is wearing long black gloves that end at her elbows - on her left arm, the glove ends just before the beginning of her flesh arm, revealing a few inches of the elegantly engineered prosthetic she’s wearing.

Farouk is clad in his customary elegant suit, but he’s replaced the black vest David remembers him wearing, all those years ago when he saw him for the first time, with one that matches his tie. The tie, the vest, and the handkerchief peeking out of Farouk’s suit pocket, are all of a warm, orange-y brown fabric, embellished with intricate orange patterns in a silky thread. He’s wearing gloves, too, black leather driving gloves.

They match, David notes sourly. 

“Come,” Farouk says, taking David by the hand. “You wouldn’t want to be late, would you?” He leads the way out into the hallway, down towards the main ballroom. Syd steps alongside, her arm looping around David’s other arm. He’s taller than the both of them, but he still can’t help but feel like he’s the least in command out of the three of them.

They enter into the ballroom. There are more people here than David originally thought, mingling and chatting amongst themselves. They all wear clothing that’s just as fancy - they blend in. They look like they  _ belong _ here, which is more than David can say about how he feels right now.

There’s a counter on one end of the ballroom, drinks and snacks lining it from one end to the other. He’s tempted to just wade through the crowd, pick up a snack and a drink, and ignore them all for the rest of the night, but he shakes the thought away and instead stays between Syd and Farouk, scanning the guests and the atmosphere.

“Do you know all these people?” he asks after a moment.

“Some of them,” Farouk says, with a shrug. “People who need to be charmed. People who want a glimmer of our reflected glory.”

“And this is how you give it to them? By inviting them to your parties?” David looks around again. They all seem to be enjoying themselves, at least.

“They serve us,” Farouk says, smiling. “And in return, we allow them to imagine that they are our equals - for awhile.”

“What, do you do something in their heads that makes them think they’re safe?”

“What makes you think they aren’t safe?” Farouk says, waving a hand. “And after all - I haven’t done anything to  _ your  _ mind, and you are here.”

Blinking, David looks over at him. He doesn’t look smug, and he doesn’t  _ sound _ smug, either. As if he’s simply stating a fact.

A fact that David can’t argue with. Right now, he feels safe. Enough. “Huh.” He looks back out into the crowd. “I guess. I mean, I  _ have _ to be here.”

Farouk smiles. “You were destined to be here,” he says, confidently. “With us.”

It’s such a simple concept: David, destined to be here. Where ‘here’ is, though, could be anywhere - or it could be this simple space, surrounded by a huge house with high ceilings and high-brow guests and expensive food and clothing, Farouk at one side of him and Syd at the other. For a second, he doesn’t feel like he  _ shouldn’t  _ be here. He almost feels like he belongs here.

But there’s a little sliver of trouble that won’t close, like a wound at the back of his mind, keeping him aware that he shouldn’t feel comfortable, he shouldn’t  _ want _ to be here.

“You don’t force destiny.” He gestures to his neck. “This isn’t natural.”

“Destiny brought the three of us together,” Farouk says. “You took us apart.”

Before David can retort, Syd reaches out and touches his shoulder with her flesh hand. “Hey,” she says, quietly. “The music’s starting. Do you - do you want to dance?”

The question takes him off guard, and he finally refocuses on the room and notices the guests pairing off into twos. They don’t seem pressed to find a partner at all, as though they just  _ know _ who to dance with.

He shoots a glance toward Farouk, then turns to Syd, taking a few steps away and reaching his hands out. Syd takes his left hand with her right, and pulls him out onto the dance floor, and it’s as if everyone knows to get out of their way. As if no one exists at the moment but them. He can forget everything for a moment and bask in the fact that he has her here, hand in hand, talking to him again and laying her eyes on him again - as if nothing terrible had ever happened between them. 

He’s only ever slow danced a few times in his life, but he can remember what to do now as though he’s been dancing his entire life. Stepping forward, he closes the difference between them, keeping one hand in hers and resting the other on her waist. Her prosthetic hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He’s careful not to get too close and accidentally touch her.

They dance, quiet at first, observing one another. The way her lips curve, just slightly up at both ends, soft and subtle but  _ there, _ fills him with warmth and longing. A desire to be closer. Her eyes are soft and blue, and her short hair falls around her face, and she is as beautiful as she was the first moment he saw her.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly, just loud enough so that no one else can hear but her.

“You look…” Syd says, looking deeply into his eyes, leaning into his touch, “… tired.”

He laughs softly, pressing his lips together and offering her a faint smile. “It’ll go away after I dance with you.”

Syd laughs. “I’m not sure that’s how that works.” She leans forward - and pulls back, as if fighting the urge to kiss him. 

He wants so badly to kiss her, and his heart suddenly spurs in his chest, in equally parts excited and shocked at the movement, sending a quick wave of heat over his shoulders and arms. If his shirt and jacket weren’t on him so tightly, he wouldn’t mind it as much. Sighing, he leans back slightly. “Couldn’t you have picked something a little lighter for me to wear?”

“We could always switch,” Syd says, smiling slightly. “That would fix it.” The gown she’s wearing is beautiful - It also looks a hell of a lot more comfortable to be in. Roomy, light, fluid.

David frowns. “You mean… right now? Here?”

“Why not?” Syd shrugs, making a face. “It’s our party.”

He doesn’t think swapping would make a very good show. Not for the two of them, at least. “Wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

Syd shrugs again. “Who cares?”

_ I care, _ Dvd replies in his mind, obviously bitter.

_ Are you against it? _ David asks, toward the both of them.

Divad doesn’t feel like he’s against it at all.  _ I said before, we’ll stay with you. What are you worried about? You wanted this the first time she asked. _

_ Did not, _ Dvd mutters, but his resolve is crumbling. Like he almost doesn’t mind either way.

_ Kind of did. Go for it. _

David purses his lips. “Would you be okay?” He looks back at Syd. 

“I’ll be fine,” Syd says, easily. “I’m used to wearing warm clothes. Gloves, and all.”

“Okay.” He looks her over. And then, because he’s thinking of her body and how it’s going to feel, he thinks of something else, and can’t help himself from saying it. “Do you remember back at Summerland, when I told you I, uh, I held your breasts, when I was in your body? And you told me you, you know…” His smile widens. “You can do that. If you want.”

“Maybe,” Syd says, leaning in, her eyes on his lips, “we could do that together.”

David’s grinning now. “I like that idea.” And then, without another word, he leans in to kiss her.

Their lips touch, and heat flushes through David’s skin. He closes his eyes, and the world flips, an invisible force slipping through his mind and forcing it inside out. Then everything still, and when he opens his eyes again, they’re Syd’s eyes, and he’s looking up at his own face. Last time, he had been in Syd’s body, years and years ago, he hadn’t had time to register how it felt. Right now, he can feel how much smaller it is than his, how much more fluid, how much more comfortable her dress is - how she only has one arm now, instead of two.

“I love you,” Syd says, and it’s his voice, but it’s her words. She pulls him in, kissing him again, open-mouthed, eager.

He returns it, just as excited now that he gets to finally touch her - even if it’s himself. He forgets about Dvd and Divad and where they are, he forgets about everyone else, he forgets about how they’ll look, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. He’s almost a head shorter, but he doesn’t feel strange having to tilt his head up to kiss her. “I love you too,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes. He has her voice, but he doesn’t care at the moment. “I always have.”

The next song comes on, and it’s full of violins and piano and soft chords. “Come on,” Syd says, softly. “Let’s dance.”

This time, she takes the lead. David’s a little unsteady on his feet, his center of balance a little off - but she’s as confident in other people’s skin as she is in her own, and she guides him through the steps.

Afterwards, they collapse onto a little velvet couch at the side of the ballroom, leaning up against each other. Syd throws an arm around David’s shoulders, and David leans against her shoulder. It feels… right. Even though this isn’t his body, this feels like where he’s meant to be. Here, in Syd’s arms.

He looks up, and finds Farouk on the other side of the ballroom, eating a cucumber sandwich, His eyes are on them, and he’s smiling, pleased with himself. Pleased with  _ them. _

Shaking his head, he returns his attention to Syd. That is to say, he returns his attention to Syd-who-is-himself. “Farouk found food,” he says, like it’s the most unsurprising thing in the world. “Will we eat soon?”

“In a bit,” Syd says. “Want some fruit?” She gestures to a bowl sitting on a table next to her side of the couch. There’s a suggestive tilt to her mouth. He likes it - he’s just not sure if liking a suggestive look from his own face is… weird.

“Yeah.” He pulls himself off of Syd, leaning over to get a look into the bowl. 

Syd puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Her eyes are glittering with mischief. “Here, let me.” She reaches into the bowl, and comes out with a handful of pomegranate seeds. She holds it up to his face, mere inches from his mouth. “Here.”

He wastes only a second looking at the seeds in her hand before he looks at her. He makes sure he’s making eye contact as he tilts his head back, opening his mouth to catch them.

Her palm brushes against his lips, and his lips and her fingers are stained with red juice as she reaches back into the bowl for more seeds. She leans in to kiss him lightly before offering him her hand again. He reaches up, taking her wrist lightly in his hand and steadying it as he catches the seeds. Some bounce off his bottom lip and slip down his chin. He shakes them off and pulls back, moving her hand down and taking her pinky into his mouth to lick the juices off.

Syd’s other hand comes down to comb through his hair, soothing and intimate, and he practically purrs. “Good boy,” Syd breathes, in his voice. 

Oddly enough, it doesn’t stop the hair rising on the back of his neck, or the tickle that runs down his spine. He laughs softly, moving on to her ring finger, and then the middle. “I missed you,” he says softly.

“I missed you too,” Syd says. “I missed  _ us.”  _ She cups his jaw with her hand, and tugs him up to kiss her.

“I thought about us,” he murmurs between kisses. “About being together with you, like this.”

“Me too,” Syd says. “When I - when I got control of my powers, finally, I thought - we could -” She cuts herself off by kissing him again. “We could do this,” she finishes, breathlessly. 

_ “This.”  _ Swapping bodies and finally kissing, physically, in front of all these people. All these guests they don’t consider friends. And Farouk, too, whose gaze David feels at the back of his head. Knowing that Farouk is here watching spurs him on. He leans in, kissing Syd for a long few seconds before pulling back. “I like this too.”

“We should -” Syd takes a deep breath. “We could go back to our room. Right now. Fuck the party.”

It sounds like too tempting an opportunity to pass up. David’s already wriggling in his seat. “Yeah. Come on.”

He pulls away, tugging her up. They wade through the crowd, their steps hurried, almost frantic, and out into the hallway. He’s not sure which room she’s talking about, so he lets her lead him along, through the halls, until she turns down one corner and pulls him into a room. In moments, David is groping his body, trying to figure out what to unzip and pull off. It’s hard to do with only one hand, the prosthetic hand not quite as responsive, as natural to him as the other hand. 

He hears the door shut behind them, and looks up, to see Farouk there, watching hungrily. In a moment, Farouk is helping him out of his dress, his hands practiced. He knows how to undress this body, and the thought makes David jealous and aroused all at once.

“David…” Syd moans, her lips pressed against his neck. 

David rips his attention away from Farouk, but the thought doesn’t leave. Syd’s lips tickle, and he tilts his head to give them room, his hands occupying themselves with pushing the jacket from her shoulders. They work deftly at the shirt buttons, simultaneously tugging her toward him as he walks backward toward the bed near the center of the room. 

She shoves him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him, her hands braced on either side of his shoulders. Her face is flushed as she looks down at him, just as hungry as Farouk. It’s strange, seeing his own face staring back at him, wearing an expression he’s not making. It’s like he’s staring into a mirror, and he finds himself wanting to mimic it.

He shakes it away, reaching around her neck and pulling her down, kissing her jaw and beneath her chin. One hand snakes down between his legs. “I’ve never,” he says, breathlessly, “had sex, in this - in a body like this.”

“I’ll show you how,” Syd says, reaching down to cover his hand with hers and pressing. “Just like our first time, right? Only this time, I’m the experienced one.” She pulls his hand back, and tugs his underwear down.

He pulls his knee up and pushes them over his feet, tossing them to the side. “I like your experience.” His flesh hand moves back down between his legs, the other moving down her chest, her stomach. 

“Doing some exploring?” Syd asks, slyly, and David hears Farouk chuckle. He almost stirs beneath her to look around her, but before he can, Syd kisses him, her hand tangling in his long blonde hair.

He lets the thoughts melt away again and kisses her back - a firm kiss, because he knows the body she has isn’t fragile now. “Well, I didn’t get to the last times we swapped,” he murmurs, running his middle finger in the folds between his legs. It’s different. He pulls away, his other hand moving lower down her body, until the backs of his fingers brush over her cock. “It’s all new.”

She lets go of his hair and runs her hand down David’s chest, stopping between his legs. She knows exactly where to touch, practiced and familiar, and one finger slips inside of him, easily. It’s far different than having a finger in his ass. Less painful, and much more pleasant, in a strange sort of way.

He draws in a breath, pressing back against the mattress. “Syd -” 

_ “David,”  _ Syd breathes, and kisses him again, stealing his breath. She doesn’t hold back - slides another finger in and starts fucking him like that, with her thumb pressed to his clit. He presses his head back against the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. Her touch is practiced, and this is so new that he’s already half-overwhelmed by it all. It’s nothing like having a cock, but it feels just as pleasurable. 

The mattress under him dips as a new weight is added to it, and another set of hands traces down the sides of David’s borrowed body.  _ “Magnifique…”  _ Farouk breathes.

David lets out a soft groan in Syd’s voice, brought on both by her fingers and Farouk’s touch at his side, which tingles at the surface of his skin, though not in a bad way. Syd’s fingers continue to move inside him, and he’s left pressing into the bed and trying to swallow down another sound. 

Farouk helps him out, leaning down to press their lips together. His hands slide up to cup David’s breasts, and David, caught in the moment and the rush of euphoria and without a single care in the world, reaches up to rest his hand over Farouk’s, lacing their fingers together. At the same time, Syd pulls her fingers out, and braces one hand on his hip. “Ready?” she asks him.

He’s breathing quick against Farouk’s lips, but he can just manage out a soft, “Yeah,” as he tenses to prepare himself.

Syd strokes her cock,  _ David’s  _ cock, twice, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation. “Does it feel different,” Farouk asks her, “when it’s him?” He’s stroking David’s hand. 

“Yes,” Syd says, her borrowed voice husky. She leans over David, bracing herself with one hand beside him, and presses the head of her cock against his opening. 

He tenses, though it’s only for a moment before he forces himself to relax again. He knows what they’re talking about - knows the two of them have done this together - and, for a moment, feels as though he doesn’t belong here. He shakes his head, shutting his eyes and reaching down to guide her just slightly lower, and spreads his legs wider. His fingers tighten around Farouk’s. “Put it in.”

Syd meets his eyes. “You’re  _ ours.  _ Remember?” She smiles at him - and then, without further warning, pushes in. Again, unlike what he’s used to, this feels  _ better  _ \- painless, almost. Like he’s  _ supposed _ to be filled here. His breath comes sharply now, but he takes her in, moving his legs out as far as he can. He pulls Farouk’s hand from his breast, moving it up and pressing it to his lips to stifle his groans. Right now, he feels exactly like he’s theirs, and he’s not going to complain.

When it feels like she’s settled in, he speaks. “This is,” he pants, “a lot better than - the other way.”

“Variety,” Farouk comments, and slips his thumb between David’s lips. His eyes are on David’s face, as if he’s imagining what else he could put in David’s mouth. 

Syd rocks into him, leaning in to press a kiss to his collarbone - then moving down to press her lips against his nipple. They’re much more sensitive than on his own body. “Mmmmm…” she says. 

Unable to speak, David presses his tongue against Farouk’s thumb. He sucks lightly, running his fingers up Farouk’s arm. In the same moment, he begins to move his hips against Syd’s. On his back like this, he’s not much use. 

“We could have you on your knees instead,” Farouk invites, pulling his thumb out. He sends David an image: David-in-Syd’s-body, on his hands and knees, bracketed by Syd fucking him from behind and Farouk pressing into his mouth. “Would you like that, my dear?”

Syd lets out a moan - maybe she was party to that image too. “Don’t - push him, Amahl.” She pauses, reaches out, and grabs Farouk by the front of his suit jacket, pulling him into a bruising kiss. David feels like he’s staring at an image that someone took, of himself and Farouk, their lips locked, overtaken by passion and the heat of the moment.

He stirs on the bed, pushing himself up onto an arm and reaching out to tug at Syd’s wrist. “Don’t leave me out,” he whines. 

Farouk breaks the kiss and turns to kiss David instead, as Syd laughs and starts thrusting again. “Never,” she promises him. 

David groans against Farouk’s lips, each of Syd’s thrusts punctuating it into a whine. He curls an arm around Farouk’s shoulders - tries to curl his leg around Syd’s waist, but misses and ends up curling his toes into the covers. 

Farouk pulls off his glove and slides his hand down between their bodies, rubbing David’s clit. He’s always heard of how sensitive it is, but he never thought it would be like _ this _ \- an almost painful rush through his system that has him adjusting his hips, trying to get Farouk to hit the right spot. Syd’s hands come to grip David’s hips, bracing him, grounding him.

His breath hitches. “Syd -” he gasps. 

_ “Ah -”  _ Syd gasps. “David - you’re so - so -  _ sensitive -”  _ Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes dark, her hair a mess. As weird as it is, David thinks she’s beautiful like this, still herself in his stolen body. 

“Of course he is,” Farouk purrs, his hand still working between them. “He’s  _ perfect.” _

David lets his breath back out. “No -” he whines. “No, it’s you -” His eyes slip to Farouk’s face, then to Syd’s.  _ “You’re _ sensitive.” And yet, he wants more of it - wants for his borrowed body to be pushed all the way off the edge. 

Farouk leans over again, and kisses him, open-mouthed, stealing his breath away. His hand speeds up between David’s legs, and one finger slips further down, pressing in alongside Syd’s cock, stretching him further - 

David winces, reaching down to curl his fingers around Farouk’s wrist. His grip is tight, mostly due to how tense he is. “You’ll hurt her,” he gasps, forgetting, for the moment, that Farouk knows Syd’s body.

Syd laughs, breathlessly. Farouk pulls his hand back, but she keeps thrusting. “I’m stronger than you think,” she says, and Farouk smiles hungrily, in a way that has David pausing, just for a moment.

Just for a moment - until Syd thrusts again, rubbing against the inside and forcing him to suck in a breath, dispelling any doubts he might have had. He looks at Farouk, lifting his chin: a silent motion to go ahead, if he wants.

Farouk’s smile broadens, and his fingers slide down again, pushing into David’s body, thrusting in counterpoint to Syd. “See,” Farouk says, “This is what you can have. The two of us, forever. Just let go -”

“And let us take the lead,” Syd finishes for him, breathless.

A piercing cry, half-groan, escapes from David’s throat. He twists beneath them, shutting his eyes, focusing on every physical thing he feels. Farouk’s fingers are a shock, but they’re hardly painful - he knows what to do with this body, and David’s not complaining.

So he lets them, leaning into the motions and letting his high build: the same feeling he gets in his own body, except - something extra, on the inside.

Syd kisses him this time, her hand coming up to tug at his hair, pulling his mouth up to hers. Farouk’s free hand finds his, lacing their fingers together, while his other hand works their intertwined bodies. David’s fingers curl around his hand, squeezing gently, as though he’s finding something in him, for once, that will keep him grounded. He brushes his teeth along Syd’s lips, breathing quick against them. He tries desperately to find her rhythm, but he’s so overwhelmed that he can only let them work. 

Syd gasps against his mouth, and her hips jerk, and her cock pulses between his legs. Farouk makes a choked-off little noise, uncontrolled for once in his life, and then his mind is against David’s, sharing with him Syd’s sensation, flooding their three linked minds with pleasure. 

David lets out a sharp wail as the sensation runs through him. It hits between his legs, and he feels the orgasm burst through him. He vaguely hears himself cry again, but he can’t make himself care, can’t focus on anything but the way he tenses and rides it out.

Too soon, he’s falling onto the mattress again, reaching up for both of them, to tug them down next to him, breathless.

Syd flops down on top of him, and Farouk curls up against David’s side, resting his head on David’s shoulder. 

“I love you,” Syd says, her voice muffled against David’s neck. “Both of you.”

David shuts his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “I love you too.” As though the vagueness of his statement won’t be noticed by either one of them.

Farouk laughs, quiet and relaxed. He hears it; of course he does. Words are his thing, aren’t they? Especially when they can be twisted to mean something other than what they should. He strokes David’s hand lazily.  _ “Mal mah,” _ he says to himself, in his native language.

David doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have to, and he doesn’t care to. Not right now. Drawing in a breath, he snakes his hand up to rest over Syd’s back and turns his head to rest his chin on Farouk’s head, blinking his eyes open and gazing out at the wall at the other end of the room. He can hear muffled sounds of the party through the walls. They have no idea what’s happened.

He wonders if they even know the three of them have been missing.

Syd slides her hand down to curl around David and Farouk’s intertwined hands. After a moment, she rolls off of David to lie next to him, leaving their three hands tangled together in the center of David’s chest. The bed is more than large enough to accommodate the three of them.

David’s eyes come to rest lazily on his prosthetic hand - Syd’s hand, borrowed for the moment. He notices that she’s wearing a ring. Gold and rubies, and a design that looks like a pomegranate.

Pomegranates.

Like the fruit at the party.

Like the design on the collar Farouk keeps in the dungeons.

Like the design on the collar Farouk put on him.

Like the design on the ring on Farouk’s finger, which David’s just suddenly noticed. It looks exactly like Syd’s.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, suddenly, as he starts to put the pieces together. 

_ “I made this for you, you know,”  _ Farouk had said, the first night David came here.  _ “This room. This place. Somewhere in the palace just for you.” _

And when Farouk had shown him the observatory - “ _ I had this built for you. For  _ when  _ you came here.” _

All that construction, all that preparation, all that  _ planning -  _ of course Farouk didn’t do that alone. Syd had to have known what he was planning, had to have been part of it. She isn’t Farouk’s patsy - she’s his partner in crime, luring David into a trap all this time.

_ “He brought you here for me,” _ Syd told him. And he hadn’t believed her. But this, this is what they’d wanted all along.  _ This  _ was the plan.

His heart beats painfully in his chest. In a second, he’s yanked their arms apart and sat himself up, scooting toward the foot of the bed. They’d planned this. They’d  _ planned _ this -  _ both _ of them.

Syd and Farouk sit up, pulling their hands back. “What’s wrong?” Syd says, concerned.

“He’s figured it out,” Farouk says, amused. “Finally.”

He shakes his head, hopping off the bed. The floor doesn’t feel quite there beneath his feet, and as he staggers toward the door, he can hear the din of the party begin to grow louder, as though it’s seeping through the walls and into his mind. He shakes his head, groping for the doorframe and turning back to look at them. “You  _ tricked _ me.”

Syd gives him a look. He can see the hurt in her eyes. And then she lifts her chin slightly, and he feels something twist in his gut.

Just like that, he’s back on the bed again - back in his body again, next to Farouk, Syd standing near the door. It’s like a nightmare, trying to escape Farouk but constantly being drawn back.  _ “No -” _ And he scrambles off the bed again, tugging his clothes off the floor and hugging them to his chest. “You - you both…”

Syd steps forward, blocking the way to the door. She’s naked, but somehow no less intimidating for it. David remembers what she asked him, days ago:  _ Are you afraid of me?  _

“David,” she says, very slowly and deliberately. “David, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“And where would you go?” Farouk asks. He doesn’t get up from the bed. He’s confident that Syd will take care of this. “After all - if we wanted to hurt you, we already would have.”

“You told me!” David shouts, whirling to face him. His head feels stuff, his thoughts bouncing in his mind. But he’s still here. “You told me I could come here to - to try and win her back over! You made me think I  _ could!” _

Farouk shrugs. “I never promised you success. I only said you could try.” He smiles, sharp and languid. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you never to deal with the devil?”

“David, please. I brought you here so that we could keep you safe. Not to hurt you.” Syd reaches out her flesh-and-blood arm to him. 

He shakes his head, glancing around the room. This one doesn’t have any windows. “You’re not keeping me safe,” he hisses. “Not with - not with  _ him!” _ He drops his clothes to the floor and starts to pull on his bottoms. “I thought I had a chance. I thought… but I never  _ did. _ Syd, how could you…  _ Farouk?” _

“I didn’t lie to you,” Farouk says. “I told you: You did not understand her. Not yet.” He smiles. “But now you do.”

Syd approaches David, slowly, her arms held out, as if she was approaching a wounded animal. “David, it’s all right. I told you - he brought you here for me. It’s just me, all right? You - you know me.” A note of pain and uncertainty creeps into her voice. “You  _ trust  _ me.”

David tightens his pants. He still grips them as she approaches, his teeth pressed together. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Farouk lingering near the bed. “You’re with  _ him.” _

“Yes,” Syd says, flatly. “And I want to be with  _ you.  _ With  _ both  _ of you.” She waves a hand in Farouk’s direction. “I haven’t given up on you. You promised. You promised you wouldn’t give up on  _ me.  _ Remember?”

“I wouldn’t give up on - on trying to  _ convince _ you,” he says, his eyes darting around the room. If only he could get  _ around _ her. “That was before I knew.” He gestures between the both of them. “You’re different now!”

Syd flinches, as if she’s been hit, but she doesn’t back away. She takes another step closer. “David - please. I’ve been trying to make you see for so long now. We did all of this for  _ you.  _ We waited for you all these years even after you left me. We built this place for you.”

“Even the laws of space and time were not enough to stop us,” Farouk says. David glances back. Farouk is on his feet now, not approaching David, just standing there, at the edge of the bed. 

David’s eyes move to Syd’s arm. Her only arm, minus the prosthetic she has on. He realizes, after a moment, that he’d seen it earlier - not just since arriving here, not just since the battle, where he had seen her wounded, but way back,  _ years _ ago. Back when he had been taken by the orb.

He looks to her face. “You tricked me into finding his body. Into  _ saving _ him. You came back, just so that I’d save him! It was  _ you.” _

“I did,” Syd says, setting her jaw. She doesn’t regret it - David can see it in her eyes. “This is  _ our  _ future, David. Not that other one. I’m sorry I lied to you - but if I hadn’t, we never would have been here.”

“God loves the sinners best…” Farouk echoes, from behind David, and David turns himself so that he can see him out of the corner of his eye. Farouk’s voice is ironic, but David wonders whether he believes it anyway. 

“Not the ones who destroy the world! Not the ones who - who  _ conspire _ together. You -” David steps away, toward Syd - toward the door. “You can’t _ make _ me love you! Either of you!”

“No,” Farouk agrees. “But you can.”

Syd’s prosthetic hand curls around David’s wrist. “Reality is a choice,” she tells him. “All you have to do is  _ choose -” _

“I never chose any of this!” And with that, David yanks his wrist from her grip. It’s too easy when it’s the prosthetic. Easier than a normal hand. He darts around her, slipping out the door before she can try to grab him again and racing back to the main room, where the partygoers are lounging. None of them seem to notice him.

Grimacing, he weaves his way through the crowd, making his way into the large kitchen. He finds the kitchen drawer and tugs it open, grabbing a large knife. He lifts it to his neck, beginning, as carefully as he can with his tense fingers, to saw at the collar.

“David,” says Syd, from the door. “That won’t come off.”

He grits his teeth and doesn’t answer, doubling his efforts. If he tries hard enough, it  _ will _ come off. It has to.

“David,” Syd says, walking closer. She shuts the door behind her.  _ “Stop.” _

David pauses to step away, facing her. “I’m not stopping until this comes off.” He tries the other side of the collar, running his fingers over where he’d sawed. Nothing. “Get it  _ off.” _

“Stop,” Syd orders again, still approaching. She reaches out her flesh and blood hand to him. “Take my hand.” It’s not an invitation. It’s an order. 

He grips the knife tighter. “You’ll trap me again if we swap bodies,” he growls through his teeth, but he can’t make his words cruel. There’s a soft edge to them, only for her.

“Yes,” Syd says, evenly. “I won’t lie to you.” She reaches out, her hand almost on his shoulder. “I know you love me, David. So put the knife down - and let me take you back.”

He has two options here: he can either give in and let her swap bodies with him - watch her lead his body right back into captivity with her and Farouk - or he can make a run for it. He has the knife, but he can’t use it. Not on her. If she were Farouk, he wouldn’t hesitate.

But she’s Syd. And he still loves her.

He throws the knife away. It slides across the counter and onto the floor, but he’s already made a break for it, bolting away from her and toward a door at the other end of the kitchen. If he can get away from here, away from  _ them, _ he’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to get the collar off.

Syd follows at an unhurried pace, and as David shoves the door open and darts through, he finds himself in - 

A pantry.

The lights are off. It’s a dead end, claustrophobic walls stacked with jars and boxes. He’s trapped.

Syd pushes the door open and walks in, silhouetted against the light. She approaches him, slow but inevitable, and he’s suddenly, horrifically, reminded of the time she swapped bodies with the Eye, the way she had moved in his body, the way he had attacked her.

He swipes a glass jar off the nearest shelf, holding it up in front of him like it will deter her from coming any closer. His fingers, he notices as he holds the jar, feel number than usual. “Don’t come any closer, Syd.”

“You’re not going to attack me,” Syd says, like it’s a fact. She takes the last step to close the distance between them, and reaches out, with her flesh hand. 

Even if he  _ had _ wanted to attack her, he wouldn’t have been able to. He makes one quick move to turn away, but Syd is faster, grabbing his arm before he can do it. His vision fails, and he almost thinks he’s passed out, except he can feel the terrible, familiar shift of the world as it flips on its head for the second time tonight.

And then he’s in Syd’s body again, half-fallen against one of the shelves. Several empty containers and jars are at their feet. He shakes his head, trying to regain his consciousness, but it’s hard - harder than usual. In spite of it, he pulls himself up, staggering toward the door.

Syd grabs his arm. Terror shoots through him as he fights against his own stolen muscles.

“David,” she says softly. “It’s okay. It’s  _ okay.”  _

She drags him close. Her fingers feel like a metal trap around his wrist, and he tries, in vain, to pull himself away.

“No!” he cries, in her voice. “Let me go! It’s not!” He tugs again, but she’s stronger than him right now: he can’t pull his mind together. “It’s  _ not _ okay, it’s…”

“Then it will be.” Syd’s arms wrap around him - half a hug and half a restraint.

He imagines her squeezing him, harder and harder until his insides are squeezed right out, until she snaps his spine. His chest tightens, and his throat, and he tugs away from her. “Syd!  _ Syd, _ please - let me  _ go!” _

“No,” Syd says, quietly, and it’s like the sound of a cell door slamming shut. 

He wants to scream and cry and explode all at once.  _ “Syd!”  _ When he writhes again, he catches a glimpse of something in the corner, just visible behind a skinny shelf column. Unmistakably, the Devil with the Yellow Eyes, grinning at him. He swears he can hear it laughing at him, its voice sounding from every direction.

The blood drains from his face, and his jaw and chin suddenly feel cold. He stops struggling. Syd’s voice sounds faintly in his ears, but he can’t make out what she’s saying.

Those yellow eyes are the last things he sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4, or, The One With The Smut. 
> 
> If you liked this chapter or you're eager to know what happens next, please leave us a comment!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dvd and Divad try to pick up the pieces. So do Syd and Amahl.

It takes him several minutes to wake up.

He’s never had to wake up after passing out before. It’s easier when it’s a normal switch, but David had taken them all down with him in his terror. And now,  _ he _ had to suffer the consequences. The way David was, he’s glad he’s the one out. 

Or he is, as soon as he starts to have a grasp of where he is.

He’s lying in a bed, on his back, his head propped at either side by pillows. He’s lying on top of the covers, which he would find strange if he actually cared. He doesn’t. Mostly because Farouk is sitting in a chair beside the bed, a book in his hand, reading aloud to him. He can’t make out what exactly he’s saying. He doesn’t want to.

He shuts his eyes, waiting until his head clears further to assess how much control he has. Physically, everything. Mentally - mostly everything.

_ Don’t say anything stupid, _ Divad mutters faintly. He’s the only one here.

Drawing in a breath, Dvd opens his eyes again, looking over at Farouk. The pillows around his head make it hard for him to turn his head, and it pisses him off. “Shut up.”

_ Dude. _

Farouk looks up from his book, delighted. “Welcome back to the world of the living,” he says, shutting the book with one hand and setting it down. His eyes flicker to Dvd’s face, assessing. “Ahh.  _ Der Beschützer,” _ he says, softly. “It has been a long time since I saw you.”

“And believe me, I don’t want to see you.” Dvd looks up at the ceiling, scowling. “Why are you here? Scared he’d make a run for it again?”

“You were always my favorite, you know,” Farouk says, calmly. “The one who was not afraid to fight back. The one who would not surrender. The one who was most like me.”

Dvd agrees with the first two. The last one, though… “I would fight  _ against _ you or die trying before I ever thought about being like  _ you.” _ He’d do it now, if not for the collar. 

Farouk tilts his head. “Why?” he asks.

“Because everything,” Dvd hisses, “is always your fault. Our shit life, everything that’s happened, all your fault.”

“And if I was not here - then what?” Farouk raises an eyebrow. “Retire to the countryside, a farm, children, the quiet life?”

That’s not exactly what Dvd wants, but he isn’t about to tell Farouk that. Not that he has to. “If you weren’t here, then there would be no danger. Everything would be  _ fine. _ A lot better, if you were gone.” He scoffs. “Instead, it’s this. Trapping me here without powers, so you can get what you want.”

Farouk smiles, slightly. “Dodging the question. A man after my own heart, no?”

“The only way I want your heart is ripped out of your chest.” He glares up at the ceiling. “If you’re not going to give it to me like that, I don’t want it.”

Farouk considers it. “If it is blood you desire… I can give that to you. Not mine, but - a suitable substitute, I think.” He stands. “Can you walk?”

“There’s no suitable substitute for you.” Dvd stays down for a moment, testing his arms and legs as he thinks. There’s still a chance he’ll be able to do something, instead of wandering around the mansion. He has no doubt that whatever Farouk has in mind won’t be pleasant, but it’s a shot.

He pushes himself up to sit, slowly, his eyes sharp on Farouk. He can feel Divad prodding at his mind. “If you take me to Syd, I won’t do it.” Not that he’s  _ totally  _ against it - but Divad is closer than usual, and he’ll switch to the front in an instant.

Farouk laughs. “I like the way you think, my dear. No, no. Something you will like better than that.” He stands and goes to the door. They’re in Syd and Amahl’s room, Dvd finally notices. It’s bigger than David’s, grander, its walls a deep shade of red and ornamented with much more intricate designs. A large portion of one of the walls is uncovered, displaying a prominent pomegranate symbol. David’s star-map lamp has been moved to the top of a little bookshelf which is currently serving as a bedside table. Dvd sees books in Arabic script lining the shelves.

Farouk leads the way down into the dungeons again, where he took David the first time, when David whipped him.

Dvd glances around. It feels more real to be here. He hadn’t had all the details, but the more he sees, the more he can fill in. “You said you weren’t going to give me your blood.”

Farouk smiles. “Would you like that?” he asks, his tone suggestive. “A shot at what your brother had?” He passes by the cabinet where he’d gotten the collar, and takes a left turn down another hallway. 

Dvd follows after him, staring forward.  _ “You’d _ like that.” He’s not going to give Farouk what he wants. “You show me what you were going to show me, and that’s it.”

“Still not an answer, my dear,” Farouk says, smiling. He stops by one cell that’s manned by two guards. “Secure the prisoner,” he orders them. “And - ah - gag him, I think.”

Dvd tenses at the orders, but the guards barely spare a glance towards him. Instead, they open the big metal door to reveal a skinny man, messy and unshaven, sitting crumpled on the floor. 

One guard stands between the door and the prisoner. The other handcuffs the man to the wall and secures a gag around his mouth, but not before he can get out, “-  _ David?”  _

The man is staring in shock at Dvd, and Farouk turns an agreeable smile on Dvd. “It is such a waste of time to listen to the prattlings of lesser beings, don’t you agree?” 

Dvd doesn’t answer. He steps closer to the door, peering around the guard to stare into the cell. David had known him. Dvd recognizes him immediately, rage sparking up his spine. The doctor from the past, many, many years ago, who had lied to David, who had cut him down at every turn. “I know him,” he says, to Farouk. There’s nothing in him that says he should feel sorry for this man. “From… a long time ago.”

“Knife,” Farouk orders the guard, who pulls a sheathed knife out of his belt, and hands it to Farouk. Farouk offers it to Dvd, smiling. “Blood for blood,” he says. “An ancient covenant.”

Dvd takes the knife without hesitation. He flips it over in his hand, tapping his teeth together. When he looks up, he can see the captive man staring at him in horror. He’s making noise, trying to speak through his gag, but his words are too muffled. Dvd doesn’t need to hear the words, or even the power to read his mind, to know that he’s trying to plead to his more forgiving side. 

Too bad he doesn’t have one.

He steps past Farouk, glancing at the guards. They don’t move, so he moves into the cell. “How did you find him?”

Farouk smiles. “I didn’t. She did. She can be quite resourceful, you know.”

Dvd lifts a brow. He watches as his old doctor struggles in his binds, but his question is to Farouk. “Blondie found him?”

“Of course. Her little gift, to David.”

He probably shouldn’t be surprised. Syd and Kerry and Ptonomy had tracked down Philly and Dr. Poole without much trouble. Of course she knew how to track the old people in David’s life down. Even the ones he had mentioned offhandedly. “That didn’t take her very long.” He runs his thumb along the hilt of the knife.

Farouk chuckles. “She is more dangerous than you give her credit for.”

Dvd let out a breath through his nose. It will take more than this to convince him she’s as dangerous as Farouk claims she is - but he doesn’t comment, instead moving in front of his captive old doctor. “So… you know, I was really hoping I’d never have to see you again.”

The doctor tugs at one of his cuffs again, to no avail. His eyes are on the knife. For once, Dvd doesn’t feel the urge - a strong one, anyways - to read his mind. He can read everything in his expression. The dread he must have, seeing him standing there, ready to send the knife into whatever part of him he pleases.

“Actually,” Dvd continues, “I wasn’t expecting this. It was all their doing. So, really, you should be blaming them.”

Farouk’s lips curl into a little smile. “So should you,” he says. It’s a reminder:  _ you owe this to  _ **_us._ **

Dvd turns to look back at him. “What makes you think I’m not?”

Farouk tilts his head. “If you don’t like our gift, we can, of course,  _ release  _ the good doctor…” He lets that trail off.

“No,” Dvd says quickly, scowling and turning to face the doctor again. “You don’t have to do that.” He would much rather call this owed to  _ him _ than the other way around.

In front of him, the doctor begins to struggle again.

Dvd smirks. It feels good, seeing him scared and regretting everything he had done. “Don’t do that. You’ll make yourself feel worse.”

After several more seconds of struggling, he gives up, beginning instead to chew at his gag, in an attempt to bite through it so he can speak. Dvd keeps quiet, watching him curiously.

Farouk steps up behind Dvd, and settles a hand on his shoulder. “The fingers are the most sensitive,” he says, softly. “So fragile, so easy to hurt. But the eyes - there is a certain psychological weight to those, isn’t there?”

“Blinding him, you mean.” Dvd taps his teeth together, lifting the knife in front of the doctor’s face, and the doctor turns his head away, half-shutting his eyes. He could do it. Pierce the eyes and carve them out.

“Whatever damage you do, I can always heal,” Farouk says. “So that you can do it again, and again, and again…”

“He doesn’t deserve to have that,” Dvd replies, lightly pressing the flat end of the knife to the doctor’s cheek. The doctor flinches, squeezing his eyes shut.

“It’s not about what he deserves. It’s about satisfaction. You deserve that, my dear.” Farouk turns his head, and Dvd can feel his breath on Dvd’s neck.

“I deserve what I want.” Dvd lifts his chin, turning the knife slightly, pressing the sharp edge into the doctor’s cheek. This time, the doctor is smart enough not to flinch so that he accidentally cuts himself. “If I want to make him blind once, I’ll have that.”

“Go on, then,” Farouk says.  _ “Take  _ what you want.”

The doctor pipes up with a muffled cry that sounds vaguely like a  _ ‘No!’ _ Dvd’s smirk only widens. He presses the knife deeper, drawing a thin line of blood. He slides it up, nearer to the doctor’s eye. “Don’t worry about it,” he says to him, softly. “It’ll only hurt… badly.”

Suddenly, Farouk’s hands slip up from Dvd’s shoulder, up around Dvd’s throat. “Hold still,  _ joonam,”  _ he says, when Dvd tenses. “I will not hurt you.” He slides his fingers underneath the leather of the collar, pressing some sort of code into the mechanical segments underneath. The collar makes a soft beeping noise, and then - 

The world suddenly comes into focus again. Like taking off a blindfold and seeing the light of day again. For a moment, Dvd thinks he’s free, because he can sense the thoughts of the guards, the prisoner, even sense Farouk’s guarded mind. But it’s like feeling the world through a glove - he can see the prisoner’s thoughts, but he can’t touch them, can’t manipulate them. And his range is limited too, unable to feel much beyond the limits of the cell. If he tried to teleport, he’d be doing it blind. Impossible.

“Feel his pain,” Farouk says, his hands slipping down onto Dvd’s shoulders, and Dvd shakes himself out of his thoughts and back to the present. “The way it lights up his nerves, the way his blood pounds in terror. The way he  _ fears you.”  _

Dvd doesn’t think that’s a bad plan. He reaches out with his mind, and it’s like trying to reach through a balloon that’s been blown up: the further out it goes, the less he’s able to press forward. He can just brush into the doctor’s mind.

When their thoughts meet, Dvd is greeted with an intense horror. Extreme fear, nowhere and everywhere at once, all of it directed toward him. All of it because of him. He can feel it running through the doctor’s body, so strong that it makes the doctor’s muscles tense, his heart pounding so hard that his entire chest is filled with pain. 

_ “Feed  _ on it,” Farouk hisses into his ear. “Let it fuel your rage.”

Dvd brings the tip of the knife in front of the doctor’s eye. In his mind, he can hear the faint sound of the doctor, pleading with him not to do it, to have mercy,  _ this man is controlling you, you shouldn’t listen to him - _

“I am not being  _ controlled!” _ In a burst of anger, Dvd sends the knife through the doctor’s eyelid and into his eye. The doctor tenses, screaming in pain, and Dvd feels the terror around his thoughts, slipping around his mind.

Warm blood oozes around the blade and through his fingers and begins to pour. He yanks the knife out again. In front of him, the doctor continues to scream, but he can hardly hear it against the feelings in his mind. He moves the knife over the bridge of the doctor’s nose and pierces his other eye.

The doctor is struggling, screaming louder now.

“Shut up!” Dvd snaps.

“Do you taste the flavor of his pain, the way his anger shades it, the way his fear gives it its color?” Farouk whispers. “Each one, each human, a different cocktail, a different swirl of urges and fears and  _ desires.  _ All ours, all for the taking.”

Dvd slides the knife through the doctor’s eye before pulling it out again. His hand is covered in gore, but he doesn’t care, because he  _ can, _ in spite of his muted powers, feels and taste what Farouk is talking about. The pain is the captive’s, but all the emotion that comes with it is Dvd’s, energizing his limbs. He clutches the knife tightly, his breathing heavy. 

“You could kill him now,” Farouk whispers. “End his miserable life. Or you could make him  _ suffer.” _

“You mean keep this cycle of torture going?” Dvd asks, though it sounds more like a statement than a question, because he doesn’t care what Farouk actually means. He watches the blood drip off the doctor’s jaw. There’s a good amount already on the floor. Dvd only has socks on, and his toes are stained dark. That, too, he doesn’t care about. “It would be good practice.”

“Why not?” Farouk says. His fingers stroke Dvd’s shoulder. “Do it for David. Recompense for  _ his  _ pain.”

He  _ should. _ He should protect: take care of it while David’s not here, before David decides to make a bigger mess of it than it already is.

Dvd’s gaze moves back to the doctor, who has moved past screaming and into silent, hopeless hysterics, overcome with pain. “Bring them back, then,” he says, nodding to the doctor’s bloodied face. “I don’t think I did it right the first time.”

Farouk tilts his head. “Do you know how?” he asks.

Dvd watches him out of the corner of his eyes. He’s not sure what Farouk means, and for a moment, he considers not asking and moving on with the torture. That wouldn’t be fun. “How to do it right?”

“Let me show you,” Farouk says, and pulls Dvd into his mind, into the depths where he controls his powers. Dvd is ready in an instant to pull himself out of it, as on edge as he always is, but Farouk doesn’t do anything more. He has enough of a hold on Dvd that he can guide him easily through his thoughts, but not a tight one. The further they go, the warmer and more alive Dvd feels: as though the powers are feeding him their energy. The same energy he would have if he didn’t have the collar on.

“Can you feel the way reality bends to our whim?” he asks, softly. “The way matter can be reshaped with a touch, created out of our dreams?”

Dvd can feel  _ something _ different, that molds itself around Farouk’s mind as much as his, in the moment, comfortably tight against his dulled mind. It’s refreshing, enlightening, but unfamiliar - or maybe it’s familiar in his own mind, but just not present at the moment, with the collar on. Something powerful, connected with the outside world.

The vile black tendrils of Farouk’s power root themselves in the fabric of reality, and  _ twist.  _ Time itself seems to reverse, the doctor’s blood crawling up his body and pouring back into his eyes as they reconstruct themselves, bit by grisly bit. 

And the doctor  _ screams.  _

Dvd steps back, shaken from Farouk’s mind. The blood settles in the doctor’s bloodshot eyes. And then the red fades, replaced with two working eyes that look around the room in pure terror. 

Dvd looks down at his sock. It’s dry. His fingers are no longer covered in blood, nor is the knife. He turns it in his fingers and clutches it again, looking back at the doctor and stepping forward again.

“Reality is a choice,” Farouk says, from behind Dvd. “And you and I - we can choose to be gods. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” 

“It’s what I’ve always known.” Before Farouk has time to respond, and before the doctor can react, Dvd flips the blade and presses it to the edge of the doctor’s eye, carving behind it, gouging it out. He ends up piercing it anyways before he can get it out, the way he’d never quite gotten the hang of keeping the yolk of an egg perfectly contained on a plate. The doctor tries to yank his head back, but Dvd reaches up to steady it. In a huff, he slices through the rest of it and drops his hand. 

_ “Shoma dark mikhonid,” _ Farouk says, and it’s in Farsi, but Dvd knows what it means.  _ You understand.  _ “And now David is ready to take his rightful place as king. All you have to do is ask him to say yes.”

If David were conscious, Dvd knows, he would be arguing against that. Against everything happening right now. “You gave him a month,” he says, watching as the doctor tilts his head back. He waits until he’s done screaming to continue. “What happens if he doesn’t say yes?”

“He will,” Farouk says, softly. “If you ask him to. This is what he wants, is it not? Power. Safety. Love. Here, he can have that.”

Dvd swaps the knife from one hand to the other. He doesn’t go for the other eye yet. “There was a time when we all wanted safety from you,” he says bluntly, looking toward Farouk. “So what are you keeping him safe from?”

“The world,” Farouk says. “The humans. The crawling, scuttling masses who cannot hope to understand him.”

Dvd clicks his tongue and narrows his eyes. Farouk has a good point. Only mutants understand mutants. “Parasites need their hosts more than their hosts need them.” He steps forward, gouging at the doctor’s other eye until he’s screaming so hard he isn’t making any noise. He moves back again, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Is that what this is? You need him?”

“‘Host,’” Farouk repeats. “But that is what he is to you too, is he not? We are both part of him. And we both need him.”

“He got away from you,” Dvd points out, over the muffled, pained yells of the doctor. “He can’t get away from us. Believe me, he tried that once. Didn’t work. But you have your own body. You obviously want David here.”

Farouk chuckles. “I do. All of this is because of him, you see. Before him, I was content to lounge by the pool, lost in my hedonistic pursuits. I brought the world to heel for  _ him.” _

Dvd scoffs. “You decided to rule the world with Syd for  _ him. _ It was a pretty steep move if you wanted to win him over.”

Farouk smiles. “Is it working?” he asks Dvd.

Dvd decides not to answer that, turning away from him and from the doctor. He lifts his hand, looking at the blood beneath his fingernails. “Let me tell you something. You messed up, hurting the people he loves. Not letting him have that pie. Try not doing that.”

“If I do that,” Farouk says, “will you hold up your end of the bargain?”

“I intended to talk to him about it, yeah. Do it anyways.”

Farouk smiles, delighted, and Dvd is reminded of a shark’s toothy grin. “Excellent.” He takes a step back from Dvd. “When you’re done here, you should return to our room. There’s someone there who wants to talk to you.”

* * *

Dvd isn’t disgusted by the blood on his hands. On the contrary, he’s almost fine with it, knowing whose blood it is. But he doesn’t want to stain anything, so when he returns to his room, he heads straight for the bathroom, rinsing them out in the sink. The water stains pink, and he watches it for a long moment as it spirals down the drain.

_ You really going to talk to him about it? _ Divad asks him, inching closer in his mind.

The last of the water drains, but there’s still pink staining the porcelain. Absentmindedly, Dvd turns the water back on and cleans it away.  _ That doesn’t mean I don’t still think we don’t need them. We don’t. _

He can feel Divad’s amusement. That makes him blink. With a scoff, he turns the water off, dries his hands, and makes his way back into the bedroom.

What he doesn’t expect is for Syd to be there. He stops in the doorway, pausing to stare at her, his eyes narrowed. Divad comes closer, but Dvd doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t want to talk to Syd right now.

It takes thirty silent seconds before Divad has full control of their body. He blinks, his mind still hazy, and looks back at Syd. “How did you know he was back?”

“Big Brother is watching,” Syd says, completely deadpan. And then, after a moment, she adds, “I was reading in the other room. I heard the sink.”

“Huh.” Divad moves to stand near the foot of the bed. “Well, before you ask, I’m not David. I’m one of the other ones, who - we haven’t met yet.” He smiles and reaches a hand out: an offer. “I’m Divad.”

Syd blinks, and Divad has the sense that he’s surprised her. With the collar loosened, he can sense her mind now - but like Farouk’s, her thoughts are shielded from him. “Hello, Divad,” she says, evenly. She looks at the hand, thoughtfully, and eventually extends a gloved hand to shake his. They shake firmly.

He lets go, pulling his hand back and running his thumb along his palm. “Sorry about what happened earlier, at the party. The…” He gestures vaguely. “Freaking out. I’m sure David would say that too, if he were here.”

“I’m not so sure,” Syd says. Her tone is inscrutable. “Which one are you?”

Divad lifts his brows and blows out his cheeks in an overexaggerated show of confusion. “Now  _ that,” _ he says, “is a hard question. That’s like asking which side of a circle I am.” And it’s true, to an extent. He’s not sure exactly what to tell her, when she’s not familiar with him and Dvd. “I’m, uh… the one who has more sense than the other two.”

“You don’t think that’s what Dvd would say?” Syd says, raising an eyebrow. 

“He’d say that,” Divad says with a shrug of his shoulders and a tilt of his head. She’s interesting. “He’d just argue with you if you said he wasn’t.”

“Have we met before?” Syd asks. 

He sighs, pressing his lips together. The corner of his mouth twitches up. “I told you - we haven’t met yet.”

“But you know who I am,” Syd says, watching him warily. 

_ Oh. _ He gets it now. Maybe. “I’m not totally unaware whenever I’m not here.” He gestures to himself. “Sometimes, I get to know what’s happening too. And we talk, the three of us. Of course I know you.” He pauses. “You’re a big part of my - of our… life.”

“And you’re a big part of mine, too,” Syd says, but her tone is still wary. “Right?”

He clears his throat. “I’m here, after everything, so… I’m going to have to say yes.” He smirks. “What you’re probably going to say is, ‘But David wants to run away.’ He does. They both do.  _ But _ \- you’re still keeping him here. So that means something.”

“Something good?” Syd asks, tilting her head. “Or not?”

“That depends,” Divad says. He’s not sure what depends, but something else has to happen. Preferably soon. “Your track record for convincing him to stay hasn’t been that great.”

The lines of her face harden. “Maybe it isn’t my job to convince him to stay,” she says, flatly. 

Divad makes a face - she has a point. “Touché. More like it’s Farouk’s job to make sure he’s not a menace anymore. Dvd’s already told him that, I think.” He shuts his eyes, flipping through the hazy memories. He can’t remember. Opening his eyes again, he looks back at her. “Stay or die, right?”

Syd studies his face, her eyes narrowed, as if she’s peering behind his skin into his mind. “Are you hoping I’ll say you can go? - Or that you can’t?”

“It was a rhetorical question, baby. I’m not hoping you’ll say anything.” He taps his fingers on his knees. “It’s just that those are the only two options. We all know that. David’s not exactly struggling with the ‘die’ part, as much as he’s struggling with the… ‘stay’ part. If we die, we die. If we stay, then… we’re all going to have to get along.” All five of them. “That’s the hard part.”

“But you know we can do it. The three of you, and me,” Syd says, evenly.

“That leaves someone out.” He nods in the direction of the rest of the mansion. “I’m sure  _ we _ can do it. But it’s complicated.”

Syd smiles slightly. “All the best things are.”

Divad smiles back at her. “Like trying to get the three of us in here to work together. David’s… stubborn.”

“So are you,” Syd says. “So am I. Can you talk to him? Ask him to - rethink?”

“There’s only so much I can do. Trying to talk to him about things usually ends up feeling like I’m trying to stick a pencil through a piece of cement. A very confused piece of cement.” He snickers, shakes his head, and looks at the star-speckled lamp. “After that spectacle at the party, I’m sure it’ll be even harder. The cement. But sure, I’ll do it.”

“He listens to you,” Syd says. “I think. Like you said - you’re the one with the sense.”

“You ever heard of a guy with sense trying to talk to a guy with no sense? It doesn’t always go the way I plan. He doesn’t always listen. But sometimes he does.” That’s the only hope they can go off of. “Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t. The point is, David’s going to do what David wants to do. I’m sure you know that.”

A little grin creeps across Syd’s features. “I know,” she says. “It’s part of why I love him.”

Divad isn’t ready for that. He blinks, and then, without meaning to, he smiles, genuinely. That’s a good thing. “I guess that’s what makes you different.”

“Maybe,” Syd says. “But not unique.” She mimics his gesture from earlier - waving at the rest of the mansion, where Farouk must be somewhere. “He’s the same - when it comes to that.”

“When it comes to -” It takes him a second, but he finally understands what she means. That Farouk loves David. She  _ knows _ that; it means they must have  _ talked _ about it before. “Loving David? Did he… tell you that?”

“Yes,” Syd says. “And I read it in his mind.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“That he loves David?” Syd smiles, slightly. “I wasn’t at first. And then I understood… we can both have what we want.”

That sounds a lot like something Farouk would day, but Divad is still stuck on the fact that they’ve discussed their mutual love toward David in the first place, and that they’re both fine with it. It’s not a concept Divad is unfamiliar with, this polyamory. He’s just never been part of it before. “Kind of like how Dvd and I have to share the love with David - I mean, you love David, but you get what I mean.” His brow furrows. “That’s new.”

“That’s what all of this was for. Bringing you here, visiting you back in the past - all for this.” She smiles slightly, to herself. “Saving love, so that we can save the world. Or something like that.”

Divad leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Listen, we’re way past this ‘saving the world’ thing now. There’s no saving it.” He eyes her. She was capable of joining Farouk and twisting the world with him. They’re way past saving. “But the love thing? That’s still possible. Never calculated Farouk in there, but… he’s obviously not going anywhere.”

Syd shoots him a grin. “Now you’re getting it.”

He may not be David, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still bristle proudly at the comment. “So - you’re saying all three would be, what, equal in this scenario?”

Syd nods. “I think at one point he thought he’d be in charge of us.” She smiles, slightly. “I shook that idea out of him.”

“Bet he didn’t like that.” He reaches up, tugging at his collar. “I imagine he’s happy about this, though. Being in charge of David’s powers.” Although apparently, he gave a little bit of it back. It makes Divad feel more stable. Less exposed. “Are you?”

Syd thinks about it for too long, her eyes dragging down to the collar around David’s neck. “No,” she says. “And yes. It feels… safer.” She looks up at him. “But I’ll do it. I’ll take off the collar. All he has to do is say yes.”

Divad sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Just one word, and yet it’s so difficult.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “Maybe if he understands this whole… situation, between you and Farouk, a little better, he’ll come around. He has to, right? Doesn’t have a choice?”

Syd meets his eyes. “No,” she admits. “He doesn’t.”

Silence stretches between them. Divad lets it go on for a while. It makes her words seem more real, seem truer, as they should be. “I think that’s the problem.”

“When I gave him a choice,” Syd says, blankly, “He left me.”

“He didn’t like the circumstances,” Divad replies. “Didn’t like what was going on. Didn’t like feeling out of control - it’s only been thirty years of his life. So… I’m saying, maybe, if he gets this stuff, maybe if he hears it straight, he’ll feel better. And then when you give him the choice, he won’t leave. Lies never work.” He snorts. “I know for a fact they didn’t work for David.”

“You’re on my side, aren’t you?” Syd asks. “You want him to stay here. Where he’ll be safe.”

Divad lets out a breath and leans back now, resting on his arms. “I exist to protect David. Keep him away from the stuff that scares him. It just turns out that I’m also someone who tries to work through them. I want him to be safe. All of us.” He watches her closely. “If you’re going to keep him safe -  _ really _ going to keep him safe, especially around Farouk - then I’m for that.”

“That’s what I’ve always done. Even right from the beginning, when Division Three had him - I came back for him. I didn’t leave him. I came  _ back.” _

He can feel her passion, her desperation, seeping through the thick veil that covers his mind and mutes his powers. It’s there. It’s not a lie. He smiles. “I believe you.”

“Then tell David,” Syd says. “Help him to understand.”

“I told you, I’ll try. That’s all I can promise. The rest is up to him.” He straightens up, scooting himself up the bed. “Is that all?”

Syd shrugs. “Pretty much. You get some rest. All three of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming to the final stretch here! Please leave a comment and tell us what you think <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alters talk to David, and David returns to the waking world.

All three of them it is. 

Sitting at the head of the bed with his back against the bedframe and his knees pulled up snug to his chest, David watches as the stars swing across the walls and the ceiling and the floor. His bookshelves and his desk and dresser. Anywhere the stars touch, David’s eyes glance. They serve as a good distraction, in the haze he calls his mind. Even here, he doesn’t feel completely safe. Why would he, when Syd and Farouk have been working together this whole time? _Lying_ to him about what he was here for?

He shuts his eyes and rests his head against the bedframe. He felt like a fool. He should never have agreed to come with Farouk. If he couldn’t get Syd on his side, there was no point in going on.

“Not really,” comes his own voice from the door.

David opens his eyes. Divad is standing with his arms crossed behind him, leaning against the wall next to the door. “No, there isn’t,” David says, watching a star slide across the wall.

“That’s not what I meant.” Divad straightens himself up and moves to the foot of the bed. “What I mean is, Syd _is_ on your side.”

David scoffs. “She’s on Farouk’s side.”

“She’s on _your_ side too. I talked to her. She said she wants what you want. What… _we_ want. She wants to save love.”

David lets out a breath. “But he _helped_ her think like that. He _made_ her think like that.” 

“And through it all,” Divad replies, sliding one knee forward on the bed and resting on his calf, “she still loves you. He never made her stop loving you. If he wanted to, he would have. But he didn’t.”

David opens his mouth to argue some half-formed thought, then stops. Shuts his mouth. Frowns. “But he let all this happen. Running from Division Three, living like runaways, like - like fugitives. If he wanted this all along, he would have done it earlier. He can’t - he can’t make us happy.”

Then, suddenly, Dvd is sitting in the rocking chair by the foot of the bed, his legs crossed. He clicks his tongue. “I’m going to have to argue different.”

David lifts his hand in annoyance, letting it drop back down on the bed. “Great, he’s here too.”

“Let me tell you what I know.” Dvd leans forward, resting his elbows on his knee. “Farouk’s willing to give us what we want. He gave _me_ what I wanted.”

David scowls. “Which was what?”

“Revenge,” Dvd says, casually.

“What?” David says.

“You know that old doctor we had? Doctor Whatever -”

“Reid,” Divad cuts in.

“Whatever. Syd found him and brought him back to the mansion. Had him locked up in one of those cells. And then I woke up, and Farouk brought me to him and said I could get my revenge, if I wanted to.”

David doesn’t know what to say for a moment. There were times when he _had_ thought about exacting revenge on Doctor Reid for what he had done. The amount of emotional toil he’d put him through when he was still confused, still trying to figure out what was wrong with him, still trying to _trust_ someone outside of Amy and their parents. He taps his teeth together. To think that Farouk - and Syd - would _let_ him - “And did you?”

“What do you think I am, an idiot? Yeah, I got my revenge. Our revenge.” Dvd gestures up towards his eyes. David doesn’t have to think much to know what that means. “And I talked to him, too. Farouk.”

This is confusing David. “But… I thought you hated him.”

Dvd hesitates. “I do. But - he’s got a point. We’re _gods,_ David. What’s the point of scrabbling around with those human idiots? I told him, no more of that pie-stealing stuff. If he wants us, he’d better do it right, or else.”

David looks at Divad.

Divad makes a face. He climbs onto the bed and sits. “This thing between Farouk and Syd isn’t meant to exclude you. Any of us. It’s meant to include you, too. They were just waiting. Built the entire observatory for you. Captured people who you didn’t like, or who did you wrong. Made sure they didn’t kill you when you stormed Division Three. If they wanted you dead, you’d probably be dead by now.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” David mutters.

Divad only rolls his eyes. “They took away your powers. You’re not dead right now, right? No. Syd loves you, and Farouk knows that. And it’s weird, but he loves you too.”

“That’s not -”

“Syd told me.”

David frowns. A memory flashes against his mind that isn’t his own: Syd, sitting in front of their body, and Divad’s surprise, when he comes to the realization that Farouk loves David, the way Syd loves him. That Syd is okay with it. That she wants that, too.

And he trusts Syd.

David’s gaze slips back over to Dvd, who’s now pushed himself from the chair and started pacing at the other end of the bed. “They both want that?”

“Probably,” Dvd says. He stops at the corner of the bed.

“They’re trying to work for you.” Divad tilts his head. “Not against you. Maybe you should pay attention. Do you want to stay with Syd or not?”

David sits up straight, sighing. “Yeah.”

“Then that’s all you have to do.” Divad reaches out, patting his foot lightly. “She’s just waiting for you now.”

David presses his lips together. He doesn’t want to make her wait. He looks down at his hand, nodding silently.

“Good man.” Divad slips off the bed, making his way to Dvd’s side. “We’ll be around.”

* * *

 David wakes up with the blankets scattered across his body, one pillow dangling off the edge of the bed and the other in his arms. He knows better than to move immediately: his limbs might not be fully up to coordinating with him. So he waits, lying there with his eyes cracked up. He’s in his room, still in the mansion, and it’s night time, from what he can feel. The room is quieter than usual: his lamp is missing.

Speaking of feeling - his powers are back. Not much of them. Barely anything at all, really. But enough that he can sense things around, if not only for several feet. Everything feels more open, and he feels less stifled.

Finally, he regains enough control that he can slowly push the covers off and slide out of bed. His arms and legs still feel sluggish, and his head feels clogged. His thoughts feel slow. His body feels _awful,_ but not in a sick sort of way. Nothing around him feels completely real.

Spacy, sluggishly, he makes his way to the door between his room and Syd and Farouk’s. He has to know if she’s in there - wants to be near her.

Thankfully, the door is unlocked, and when he peeks inside, he can see Syd lying in the bed. When he steps into the room, he feels as though he’s stepped into a completely different world: not in location, but in atmosphere. As though he’s stepped into a place fit for royalty, more striking than even his room is. On the table next to Syd is his lamp.

Silent, he shuts the door and drags himself to what he assumes is Farouk’s side. He crawls under the covers. Though he’s not thinking straight, he still knows he should stay away from Syd. Not touch her. 

Syd sits up in bed, and watches him. Slowly, she reaches out to her bedside table, and slips her gloves on. There’s a pillow already lying next to her; she takes it, and presses it up against David’s side before sliding closer. One gloved hand reaches up and combs through his hair.

David shuts his eyes, more than grateful that she hasn’t said anything yet. He’s not sure he can handle thinking right now, let alone talking. He shuts his eyes, focusing on the way her fingers feel in his hair, soft and rhythmic and gentle. He’d missed this.

After what feels like an hour, he finally turns his head to look at her, his eyes half-open. “They told me what happened.” His voice sounds slightly off, like it’s not really his.

“I met him,” Syd says. “Divad.” Her voice is quiet, as if she doesn’t want to disturb the comfortable silence in the room.

There’s a faint creak as the door opens. David doesn’t have to lift his head to know who’s entering the room, coming to stand near the bed. He turns his head to look over at Farouk, then shuts his eyes. “They said they were both out, at one point,” he says, half to answer Syd and half to let Farouk know that he’s aware of what transpired. Mostly, anyways. “I thought I was ready to come back.”

“And were you?” Farouk asks. 

“I was. My body wasn’t. I feel like crap.” David lies there for a moment, merely breathing while Syd runs her fingers through his hair. He looks up at the ceiling. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I was afraid,” Farouk says, quietly, “that you wouldn’t come back.”

David’s gaze slips to Farouk, and, like some ingrained instinct, he searches for the signs of lying, those little twitches of amusement across the lips. If there’s anything, he can’t find it. Farouk is worried. And Syd, he knows, worries too - about his leaving. After a moment, he replies: “I always come back.”

“Will you stay?” Syd says, quietly.

Somehow, he knows she’s not talking about the same thing as Farouk. Another pause. Then: “When I talked to them, they told me you were… that you both did things for me. Reid, with - with Dvd. And then Divad, he talked to you, and he understood. And I think I got him, for the most part. And then the… tower, the stars, and the - everything here, how you got my lamp, and… and, you know, I think… why should I leave, when I have this? If I left, what would I have?” He watches the ceiling again. “I wouldn’t have anything.”

“You wouldn’t,” Farouk says. “You need us.”

“And we need you,” Syd says, a tremble in her voice.

David presses his lips together and nods. “I know. If you didn’t need me… if you didn’t need me, you wouldn’t try so hard to make me stay. I didn’t get that. Not before. I didn’t believe - but now I do. You don’t have to try anymore.”

“Say it,” Syd says. “Tell me you’ll stay.” She reaches out, her hand over the blankets, and squeezes his hand.

He turns his hand beneath the covers to squeeze hers lightly. “I’ll stay,” he says softly, and it doesn’t feel like a shock to speak. “I have what I need here. What I want. I’ll stay.”

Syd’s eyes are on his. “Tell me you love me,” she says, not letting go of him. “Tell me you love _us.”_

“I love you.” That one is easy. That one is as true as the day he’d met her. But he blinks and looks over at Farouk and has to pause, looking him over for a moment. This will be different - but then, they’ve known each other for David’s whole life. So long that David couldn’t kill him, even when he had the chance. He knows what that means now. “And I love you, too. Both. I can’t live without either of you.”

Farouk studies his face. “Come here,” he says, softly. 

David looks at Syd. She smiles faintly, nodding toward Farouk, so he pulls his hand from hers and sits up, scooting to the edge of the bed. 

Farouk comes to him, kneeling down next to him. He puts a hand under David’s chin, and tilts his head up to look at him.

For a moment, neither of them speak. David expects Farouk to do something: to start speaking, to lower his hand again after some silent inspection. But Farouk still doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t budge. And David is left watching him, unwilling to move or to break the silence and the sudden, tense atmosphere around them. He’s never been so close to Farouk before. Not like this, at least, where he can take a chance to really look him over. He’s always thought Farouk’s features to be just shy of fully cunning and sly, but there’s something about being so close that has him rethinking that. Not that he’s not still Amahl Farouk - but here, he realizes that he truly is human. That this is a face just like all the rest. Tangible, memorable. _Here._  

It’s a novel observation, entirely unexpected, even though David knows he knew it partially from the start. He knew it when Farouk had held the razor to his neck and offered him control instead of slitting his throat. He knew it when Farouk had shown him the observatory and told him he’d had it built for him. He knew it when Farouk had let him put the collar around his neck to suppress his powers. He knew it in the moment he had awakened to find Farouk asleep next to him, blissfully unaware and absolutely defenseless, so certain of his own powers that could stop David if he tried anything - and so trusting that David wouldn’t.

With his heart bursting with sudden, almost painful, fondness - and before he can convince himself it’s a bad idea - David leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Farouk’s lips. 

Farouk’s eyes slide shut, and his other hand comes to rest on David’s shoulder - not maliciously, but in a comforting sort of way. His touch draws David in, and David moves closer, as though he’s being pulled by some invisible force. It’s none of Farouk’s influence, because a moment later, Farouk’s mind brushes against David’s, uncharacteristically soft, his barriers down. It’s all of what David’s feeling: the warmth in his chest at Farouk’s gentle touch, the fondness that curls his lips in a smile. Farouk’s lips are warm and human and inviting. This feels _normal,_ this feels _safe._

And then Farouk pulls back, mind and body. He studies David’s face, and reaches out to touch the collar at his throat. David can’t see what he does - but suddenly, the clasp comes open under Farouk’s hands, and - 

The return of his powers feels like a flood against weakened glass around his mind. It caves in and shatters, tearing sharply at his consciousness and his awareness, small bursts of pain that are quickly replaced with the coolness of his telepathy, telekinesis - everything. The world opens up for him, and suddenly, he knows right where he is, right who he’s with, right where he can go. He’s no longer trapped.

He lifts a hand up and presses his knuckles against his lips, his gaze on Farouk. His other hand comes up to rub at his throat, like there’s some residual power-nullifying layer around his neck. “Um…” His eyes slip away to rest on Syd. “Thanks.”

“Now you have the power to kiss her, too,” Farouk comments, amused.

David smiles, sheepishly at first, and then widely, as he turns to face Syd. “I’d like that.”

Syd sits up, moving over the bed toward him. Before she can say anything, David sends his mind out, and the world around them fades away, replaced by the White Room.

Syd wastes no time in dragging David by his collar into a bruising kiss, her tongue pressing into his mouth, her eyes pressed shut. David returns it eagerly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. It feels nice, to be able to hold her again like this, in the Astral Plane, in their own bodies. He’s missed the feeling of her delicate, yet strong, body in his arms.

Eventually, he pulls back for air. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Farouk there watching them. He remembers the strange new feeling of kissing him, too. How he didn’t mind it. So he pulls away just slightly from Syd, reaching out to take Farouk’s wrist and pulling him down so that he can kiss him, too.

Farouk leans into the kiss eagerly, one leg on the bed and one leg off. His hands go to David’s waist, digging into his hips. Their minds are intertwined, so David can _taste_ Farouk’s desperate hunger. And it’s there, too, in Syd’s mind. 

Syd slides up behind David, her flesh hand resting over Farouk’s, on David’s hip. Her lips press against David’s neck and tickle against his skin.

His shoulders tense, and he smiles against Farouk’s lips, pulling back slightly to look at him and tilting his head to the side to give Syd more room. “I’ll stay,” he says softly.

“You _better,”_ Syd says, fiercely. She nips him on the neck.

“He will,” Farouk promises. He smiles, slow and smug. “He is _ours,_ after all.” His hands find their way up from David’s hips to the collar of his shirt, slowly starting to unbutton it. 

David reaches up, placing his hands over Farouk’s. He moves them down to the hem of his shirt, then reaches up to continue with Farouk’s unbuttoning work. “Then prove it. Let me do what I want to do,” he says. “Help me take this off, and then sit back.”

 _“Your wish is my command,”_ Farouk says in French, smirking and shrugging off his shirt. 

“You’re ours too,” Syd tells Farouk. She grabs the discarded shirt and, with a practiced hand, uses it to tie Farouk’s hands behind his back. When David looks to her face, he sees determination in her eyes.

A small smile tugs at his lips, and he moves around behind Farouk, sitting on his calves with his knees to either side and curling his arms around Farouk’s waist. He sets his chin on Farouk’s shoulder. “I think I like the arrangement,” he says, looking toward Syd.

“I knew you would,” Farouk says, smugly.

Syd rolls her eyes. “I think I can think of something better for him to do with his mouth than make comments,” she says to David, smirking. David knows instantly what she means, but he raises his brow at her anyways. She only looks at Farouk, her smirk twitching.

He pulls away from Farouk, moving back around to straddle his thighs. He undoes the button and zipper of his pants and tugs them down, along with his boxers.

Farouk smirks up at David, no less smug for the new position. “How long have you been waiting for this?” he asks. 

“Long enough,” David answers vaguely, clearing his clothes from his legs and tossing them aside.

Syd has her own plans. She’s undoing Farouk’s pants - but the position makes it difficult to get them off, and so, impatient, Syd snaps her fingers, and the suit pants simply vanish, leaving Farouk naked between them. 

Without wasting a moment, David pushes Farouk down by his shoulders, scooting up to sit on his chest now, freeing up space for Syd behind him. “Why? You’ve been waiting for this too, haven’t you? Both of you.”

“If you let him run his mouth, he’ll never shut up,” Syd says. “You have to take a firm hand with him. Right, Amahl?” Before he can answer, she pushes her fingers into his mouth, mimicking what David’s planning to do to him. She shoots David a sly grin. 

David snorts, pulling her hand away. He climbs up, taking his cock into his other hand and pressing the tip against his lips. “Open.”

Willingly, Farouk leans in and takes the head of David’s cock into his mouth, his tongue lapping at the sensitive underside. His eyes slide, focusing on the sensation of skin on skin. It’s been a while since David’s done this, so it feels even better than usual. Or maybe it’s just the Astral Plane that makes everything _feel_ so much more.

Maybe Farouk just knows what he likes.

With a grunt, he pushes himself a little deeper into Farouk’s mouth, letting his breath slip through his teeth in a hiss.

Farouk opens his eyes again, looking up at David, challenging him. _Is that all you’ve got?_ His expression says. It’s not a challenge David is willing to drop. With a curl of his lip, he reaches down to holding the back of Farouk’s head with one hand, then thrusts himself as far in as he can go.

Farouk chokes, his throat clamping around David’s cock in the process. His face is red and his eyes are watering and David decides that he likes that, likes the way Farouk looks with his composure destroyed. He curls his fingers into Farouk’s skin, lingering for another second, and then pulls out again. The friction from Farouk’s tight throat makes him groan.

Smooth naked flesh presses up against David from behind, as Syd’s lips brush against his ear. “Are you the magic man?” she whispers, amused. Her hand slides down David’s back to cup his ass.

It feels… nice, to be between them, sandwiched and snug. “Yes,” he murmurs, suppressing a shudder. He’s always been the magic man. He pushes his cock back into Farouk’s mouth, not forcefully, but not too carefully either.

“Harder,” Syd encourages David, her hand coming down to cup David’s rear. “He can take it.”

David obeys her command, leaning himself forward as he shoves himself back in, deeper this time, his fingers still curled into the back of Farouk’s head.

Farouk makes a choking noise, his eyes clenched shut as he struggles to accommodate David’s cock. David hesitates for a moment.

“He likes it,” Syd says. Her hand leaves David’s rear and slips between her legs. “I’ve been where you are, you know.”

He takes a breath, moving his hips back, shutting his eyes and focusing on the sound of Syd’s voice. “But he was - you, and you were him.”

Syd smirks. “Wrong. He was him and I was _you.”_

“That’s - ” David blinks his eyes open again, glancing down at Farouk, trying to imagine this exact same thing - except without him here. Syd, in _his_ body. Farouk, making her _him._ Heat runs up his spine. He pulls back, until his cock is nearly out, then thrusts it back in, as far down Farouk’s throat as he can. 

“The real thing is better,” Syd says, a little breathlessly. She presses her hips against his back. Below them, Farouk looks up knowingly. “Much - _ah -_ better.”

Strangely enough, for once, David doesn’t feel any sort of jealousy. This is what _he_ wants. He rocks his hips, starting up a steady rhythm. “Come on,” he murmurs down at Farouk.

Farouk rises to the challenge, doing his best to work his tongue around David’s cock, moving in rhythm with David. From behind him, a wet finger slips between David’s cheeks, exploring. Syd’s other hand is braced on his hips. He draws in a breath, pressing down against Farouk’s head and pushing it down to the mattress. Turning his head, he looks back at her questioningly. 

Syd cocks her head, looking back at him, as if to say, _are you up for it?_

He lets out a soft breath, grinning crookedly. “Go ahead.”

Syd’s fingers press in, and she leans against him, her body hot against his. Her fingers feel the opposite: cool and almost soothing. He draws in a breath, stilling in Farouk’s mouth and leaning forward to balance on one arm.

Syd presses in and out, fucking him already, her breath loud in his ear. Farouk, meanwhile, looks up at David, displeased by his lack of motion. 

David clenches his teeth, rolling his shoulders and starting to move again, matching Syd’s pace this time. It feels so good. He’s been alone so long, and now he’s not, and he’s surrounded and touched everywhere. 

Farouk’s mind reaches out to David’s, psychic tendrils wrapping around David’s thoughts. Poking, prodding. Exploring familiar territory. David lets him, welcoming well enough the familiar touch in his mind. And then - Farouk _pulls_ on something, heightening David’s sensations, everything suddenly sharp and immediate and clear, like Farouk has just tugged a line of plastic wrap from over his senses and let everything pour into his mind, all at once.

As if in concert, Syd chooses that same moment to slip a third finger into David’s hole.

Instantly, David can feel the pleasure spike inside of him, shooting up through his body, his guts, his stomach, his chest and throat. It would scare him, if it didn’t feel good - and it _does_ feel good. Better than anything David’s ever felt before, in his body or in the Astral Plane. He gasps, arching his back and nearly slipping onto an elbow. _“Jesus -”_  

Syd makes a noise and sinks her teeth into his neck, while Farouk speeds up his efforts on David’s cock. They’re sharing in his pleasure, David realizes, feeding off of it together. He _likes_ that. It means they’re connected. So he expands his mind, wrapping it around both Syd’s and Farouk’s, pulling them into his pleasure and trying to feed just as much off of theirs, riding his high and Syd’s high and Farouk’s high all at once.

Syd moans loudly, wrapping her free arm around his waist and pulling him close while her fingers fuck him. Farouk’s hands, suddenly freed from their bonds, come up to David’s hips. David doesn’t ask, too engrossed in the moment to wonder, to even care. He continues with his motions, speeding up the closer the buildup. The more he feels it here, the less he can control himself, until finally, he can’t hold it in anymore. With a loud cry and without a warning, he comes into Farouk’s mouth, fast and sudden and hard and so overwhelmed that he can see stars at the corners of his vision.

Syd cries out along with him, and Farouk makes a choked noise around his cock as the psychic wave of David’s orgasm overtakes them. Farouk pulls back, swallowing and catching his breath, while Syd drapes herself against David, panting. 

David pulls himself back, sitting at Farouk’s chest, his arms propped to either side of Farouk’s head. He looks down at his fingers, curled into the smooth, white covers, and takes a moment to catch his own breath. He shuts his eyes and, still connected to both of them, lets himself sink into the array of their thoughts, open and cozy and comfortable. 

Farouk lounges back into the sheets, his mind sleepy and smug. David idly explores his parasite’s thoughts with one psychic tendril, and finds them surprisingly vulnerable, the iron-hard shields let down for a moment. He looks up, and sees Farouk looking back at him knowingly. The ethereal light of the white room catches Farouk’s warm, brown eyes, and David finds himself thinking how handsome the other man is - in a sinister sort of way.

“Yeah,” Syd says, lazily, “But looks aren’t everything.” She tugs David down to lie with her amid the pillows, David half on top of her, and presses her nose into his shoulder. Their legs tangle with Farouk’s, at the middle of the bed. 

“Did we do it?” David says, after a long moment. Syd and Amahl are warm against him, and the sheets are soft, and, for the first time in a long time, he feels content.

“Do what?” Syd asks, sleepily. 

“‘Love is what we have to save if we want to save the world,’” David quotes, looking up at the white ceiling. A breeze brushes across his face. “Did we save the world?”

“Save the world… rule the world… in the end, it’s all the same,” Farouk says.

Part of David is still telling him that isn’t true. But he feels _safe_ here. Does it matter if it’s all an illusion? Does any of it matter?   
  
He’s comfortable. Syd, the love of his life, is here. Amahl, his phantom limb, is here. He is complete. 

David turns and presses his face into Syd’s hair, and forgets the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please leave a comment - and I hope you'll tune in later this week for the epilogue!


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

David’s sitting on the top of a building nearby the old camp where he had long ago prepared to battle Amahl and take Syd from him before he could continue to brainwash her further. He leans against Amahl, his chin resting atop his shoulder. His booted feet and covered legs rest over Syd’s legs, and she has her arm - gloved and sleeved - folded over them. The sun beats heavily down on them, but he doesn’t feel overheated: a combination of his and Amahl’s powers makes the temperature much, much better.

In front of them, David can see people trickling in and out of view. After a month in the palace, his old base seems shabby and sad. He recognizes the people below: his old followers, who, he knows, from a quick scope of their thoughts, have learned to move on without him. More than likely he’s presumed dead to them. David wonders if that should hurt his feelings. It doesn’t. He looks at the humans walking through the dirt down there, and wonders how he could ever have tricked himself into thinking he felt anything for them. 

“Are you ready yet?” Syd asks, running her fingers over his leg.

It tickles, and he shifts between them, a smile at his lip. His gaze is still on the camp in the distance, but he’s watching her out of the corner of his eye. “That means I’d have to get up.” He runs his calf along her legs, shutting his eyes and nuzzling into Amahl. He likes it here.

“Mmm, not necessarily,” Amahl says, stroking David’s hair. “Our powers have a long reach.”

“You could just leave them,” Syd says. “If you wanted to.” There’s a testing note in her voice, even though she’s relaxed against him. 

Leaving them means leaving a pocket of resistance, a small but significant flaw in their master plan. A few souls who will never love them. They can’t have that. “No.” He laughs, softly. “I don’t think we can. And I’m sure, once they see our side of things, they’ll listen.” And they  _ would _ listen.

_ “Natürlich,” _ Amahl says, smiling. “When we talk, the world listens.” His mind curls around David’s fondly.

David shuts his eyes for a long moment, letting his mind lean in to Amahl’s the way his body is. As if they’re one again.  _ “Hamantur keh boyad boshad,” _ he says, in Farsi.  _ As it should be.  _ He’s been learning. 

After several long seconds, he opens his eyes again, sitting up and pulling his legs from Syd’s lap. He stands, stretching and stepping to the edge of the building. “If we do it,” he says, crossing his arms behind his back, “we might as well do it sooner rather than later.”

Amahl helps Syd up. “It’s best for them,” he says. “That is what you want, no?”

“Why wouldn’t I want the best for them?” David says. Off in the distance, several people are climbing into a van. “Of course that’s what I want. They deserve this. Just like I did.”

Amahl laughs. He steps up behind David and kisses him on the cheek. “You deserve the best, my dear.”

David smiles brightly at him. “I have the best.” Then, he turns away, stepping off the building.

Before he can fall, he’s gone, down on the ground in front of the van. Through the front windshield, he sees the person in the driver’s seat raise his brows and turn back to speak to the others through the back window. In another moment, the doors open, and two people climb out from either side. The driver remains in his seat, looking at him warily.

“David?” one of them says. “You’re alive?”

David looks at her. He remembers her vaguely from long ago, but there’s no chance he remembers her name. “Did you think I died?”

She frowns. David doesn’t have to read her mind to know that she’s uneasy and confused. “We all did.”

“I was just off taking a break from all… this.” He gestures vaguely around them.

“Where?” the other asks: a man this time, and the most suspicious of them all.

David lifts a shoulder. He can feel Amahl and Syd far off, watching him from the building. “With other people that aren’t you.”

He feels the atmosphere shift around him: they’re all suspicious of his answer. He can’t say he blames them. He’d been gone a long time. To think him dead for so long, only to see him back again on some random day - it’s difficult for them all to take. David feels it.

_ “Where?” _ the man asks again. On the other side of the car, the driver opens the door and slips out.

He’ll never be able to explain it, and even if he sat them down for days, talking wouldn’t be of benefit. Impatient, David lifts his hand, casting a blanket around them that freezes them in place. It digs into their minds a moment later. “I was off learning the ways of the world. Figuring out why, after years of planning and training, we weren’t beating any of them. Amahl. Sydney. And then, I realized: we were doing it all wrong. We didn’t need to defeat them. They just wanted the best for us.”

Their minds stir in David’s psychic grasp, but he only tightens the grip. “So,” he continues calmly, “I decided the world deserved that. I deserved that. And here I am, to show you all that there’s nothing any of us could have done to stop this. It was destined, ever since…” Ever since Syd had visited him in the orb. “It’s better this way.”

And with that, he curls his fingers and sends his thoughts to pierce into their minds and color their notions. It’s better this way, to twist their thoughts so that they won’t argue - to make them agree. They try to fight back, but David is stronger, and he beats them down before they can rise up against them. One, two, three, four… five, three outside the van and two inside, who never knew what was coming. It’s better that way, too.

He pulls his mind back. The others stagger only for a moment, and then blink away their confusion, glancing at each other as though they’ve suddenly come to the conclusion that David is right. The driver nods and hits the side of the car twice, and the other two climb out. They don’t have anywhere to go, now.

Syd and Amahl are suddenly there, holding hands. Syd reaches out her free hand and pulls him close, and Amahl kisses him.

_ Finally,  _ Amahl is thinking, and making no effort to hide it.  _ Finally. _

David moves his hand up, holding Syd’s forearm carefully. He replies in his own mind, wrapping his thoughts around both their minds.  _ There’s no other way. _ He brushes his nose against Amahl’s and pulls away, looking off behind the van, where he knows the rest of the group is.  _ Shall we? _

_ Ladies first,  _ Amahl says, gesturing to Syd with false gallantry. Syd gives him a look, and takes the lead. David and Amahl follow behind her. Behind the trio, the five others gather together, and then follow several feet behind them. David pauses, waiting for them to catch up and wrapping an arm around one of their waists before continuing on.

_ “Do it,” _ Amahl says, in Farsi.

David pulls away from their new follower and steps forward. Amahl and Syd move out of his way, and he makes his way between them. In front of them is a run-down building. When David casts his mind out, over and through its walls, he can feel the abundance of activity inside. This is all of them, he knows.

Shutting his eyes, he sharpens his powers, snapping them around every single mind like a rubber band. None of them are prepared, so he meets little resistance as he infiltrates each and every one of their thoughts and twists them into his own. They go easily, one by one, bowing to his influence and collapsing into themselves. David makes sure each and every one of them come up without a single doubt of their own: the three of them can’t have that, as far as they’ve gotten. Their minds reappear again - as friends, this time. As allies. As followers who agree with everything David and Amahl and Syd do. It’s easier this way.

By the time David is finished, he’s built himself a good headache. Letting out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, he finally opens his head, running his palm along his cheek and squinting at a stained wall.

Amahl’s mind tangles around him, soothing his headache. “It’s done,” Syd says, smiling slightly. “They’re ours.” She turns to look at David, her eyes fond. “Just like you.”

David looks at her, a satisfied smile at his lip. He reaches for her gloved hand and hooks his other arm around Amahl’s. “Just like me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you all for reading our long-form trash fic - and, of course, thank you to Erisden, for writing this with me <3.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Body Beautiful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811668) by [versaphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/versaphile/pseuds/versaphile)




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